The Darkness of His 6th Year
by Sirius REDRUM
Summary: It is Harry's darkest year yet. His sixth. Petunia isn't who she has claimed to be. Snape's darkest secrets are purged. What happens to the Death Eaters as Voldemort gets stronger? A mother's blood is crucial. Extremely crucial. Aaah sweet 16.
1. Unexpected Sympathy

Author's Note (PLEAS READ): Just like all the other fan fiction writers out there, I do not own any of the characters (except for the one newly introduced) or anything else that is related to the _brilliant JK_. Heck, I wouldn't have a good story line if it wasn't for hers. I also do not own the lyrics to Back in Black by AC/DC. So for all those law suit seekers, I'm not making any money off this so back off!  
Now, I wrote this fanfiction in Microsoft Word and am too lazy to go back and edit all of my following chapters, so I hope you will read this and it will clarify all your questions. **1.)** I write all my thoughts in italics, which, unfortunately does not show up in fanfiction.net form. If you see a sentence that is suddenly in first person, note that it is a THOUGHT. And "" means that the point of view has been changed (you'll see in Chapter 5 I think). **2.) **I would write sentences with dot, dot, dots, but I was unaware that you had to space them out, so if you come across a sentence like, "Don't...leave...me!" please read it as, "Don't. . .leave. . .me!" Alright, well that's it! and I hope you enjoy my first ever HP fan fiction!  
  
** The Darkness of his 6th Year**  
  
1. Unexpected Sympathy  
  
The summer heat seeped under the window sills of Number 4 Privet Drive.  
The Dursleys sat on the living room couch in tank tops and shorts,  
watching the news. The heat was almost unbearable. If it had not been for  
the new air conditioner installed by Mr. Dursley the previous week, a  
great deal of heat stroke and dehydration would have spread throughout  
the house like a deadly virus. Sweat was peeking out from under Mr.  
Dursley's massive chin. Flies buzzed around Dudley's crevices in his arms  
and legs. Mrs. Dursley sat fanning herself with a piece of paper and  
Harry, Harry James Potter was upstairs, locked away in his room, lying on  
his bed.  
  
There was no vent for cool air to come in from in Harry's room. The only cool air that was present was from the space between the floor and Harry's door or from a breeze that was occasionally cast into his room by his open window. His thoughts were filled of memories of Sirius and it was hard to distinguish nowadays if Harry's cheeks were stained from tears or sweat. The tears however were not because he wept for Sirius's death, but because he was furious at the thought that it had occurred. He'd let his mind dwell on the event and become frustrated to the point where it was impossible to hold the tears back. He was frustrated that Bellatrix had been so ruthless. Frustrated that he had lost another loved one. Frustrated at the fact that Sirius's death was so simple that it didn't seem real. And because it didn't appear real, Harry had succeeded in convincing himself that it never happened, only to wake up discouraged the following day.  
  
Despite his anger, he did miss Sirius. Every time Harry saw a black dog pass by on the street, his face grew hot and his heart sunk. Every time he over heard someone say "black" a storm cloud of depression swelled inside him. Every time he smelled a musty, old odor, it reminded Harry of the smell of Number 12 Grimmuald Place, and breathing became sharp little intakes of air. As much as he missed his godfather, Harry couldn't help the fact the Sirius was everywhere and in every one of the five senses. When Ron and Hermione wrote to him, he barely wrote anything back. He ate very little of the little helpings served to him and life sort of lost its meaning. Despite what Dumbledore told him, Harry took all the blame. If only I could go back and change everything, Harry thought to himself. Then the first burst of joy all summer consumed his body as he pulled out a quill and parchment.  
  
Dear Hermione, I thought of a way that might bring Sirius back! I can't say anything suspicious yet if the intercepting of the owls is still taking place. Write back when you get this letter and please don't think of me mad!  
  
Sincerely Yours,  
  
Harry  
  
He shook a sleeping Hedwig awake and quickly tied the letter to her leg. She squawked in protest, but Harry knew this was urgent and didn't allow Hedwig a couple of minutes to wake up completely.  
  
"To Hermione," he said breathlessly, "and I want you to stay there until she writes back. This heat isn't good for you, you know." With that said he took Hedwig on his arm and carried her to the half open window where she took flight. He watched her for a few minutes until anxiously flopping down again on his bed. Harry's mind was racing and his stomach was still fluttering after the back flips it did when he first thought of the idea.  
  
Minutes turned to hours and all Harry had been doing was sitting on his bed getting his hopes up. There was a sudden commotion outside and Harry turned and saw the outline of an owl flutter from the shadows. It wasn't Hedwig. The owl short and plump, and somewhat resembled someone he knew. It fluttered into the room and landed on the bed post. Its feathers were mousy grey and the beak was short and pointed, looking as if it were wearing an annoyingly familiar smile. The oddity about this owl was its miss-matched eyes. One was a foggy green with a black slit for a pupil and the other was crimson with a gold slit. Harry barely took notice of this and untied the letter from the owl. It pecked at his hand as he did so. Then, without waiting for Harry to scribble a reply (or even open the letter for that matter) it flew out of his room. He carefully opened the letter, excited and somewhat scared to see what it contained. Horror struck him like lightning when he saw who the letter was from.  
  
Potter,  
  
Stop with this nonsense. Black is dead. You know it. I know it. The ministry knows it. And we all certainly know that there is no way to bring him back. Don't even try Potter.  
  
High Inquisitor,  
  
Dolores Umbridge  
  
p.s. I was authorized to intercept your letter, but you should be thankful that I sent it to its rightful owner anyway.  
  
A wave of rage over Harry. His lip curled and his stomach twisted into a tight knot. Why are they still keeping a close watch on me! Authorized to intercept my letter! I'll show that Umbridge woman some authority! Hedwig suddenly fluttered into his room and onto his arm. Her feathers were a bit rumpled but nothing was broken or torn from being intercepted. He untied the letter, and recognizing the writing, knew it was from Hermione.  
  
"Lucky you didn't get caught carrying this back from Hermione eh?" he asked Hedwig. She cocked her head slightly to the left in a comprehending way. He tore open the letter and read it out loud as if someone where listening.  
  
"Dear Harry, if you're talking about the thing we used in the third year to save you-know-what from being executed from Hagrid's backyard (I'm not mentioning the name of this thing incase this is intercepted) then I'm sorry, but...but that won't work this time. You see I felt so guilty after doing what we did and knowing we could have been caught and expelled and even worse, that I gave it to Dumbledore and we destroyed it." All the excitement that had been swelling inside Harry was flushed out and gone. He swallowed several times and reread the line over and over to make sure he hadn't read wrong and then continued, "Plus Harry, even if I did still have the thing, it wouldn't stop you from thinking those thoughts and if we tried to stop ourselves from going to the Ministry, we were going to get caught anyway, being seen by ourselves and all. I'm terribly sorry to spoil your happiness Harry, I really am. Can't wait to see you—Hermione." He slowly turned to Hedwig who had crawled back into her cage and his sweat streaked face became hot with disappointment. He lay down and fell asleep.  
  
"DINNER BOY! YOU HAVE ONE MINUTE TO GET DOWN OR YA AIN'T GETTIN' ANYTHING!" The hollers of Uncle Vernon awoke Harry with a jump. He was bleary eyed and found his glasses lying on the floor. His joints were stiff and he hobbled downstairs to the kitchen table. The heat had obviously gotten to all three of the Dursleys because no one was talking. Once again, Harry had gotten the least amount of food, but that didn't bother him now, he wasn't even hungry anyway. The sounds that filled the Dursley's house were that of knives cutting and clattering against the ceramic plates. No one looked at each other. Harry sat at his seat, stabbing at his steak, asking himself why he even bothered to come down in the first place. Someone mumbled and broke his concentration.  
  
"What'd you say?" Harry asked, looking directly at Uncle Vernon.  
  
"I didn't say anything! Don't you listen? That was your Aunt Petunia," Uncle Vernon spat. Harry shifted his gaze to Aunt Petunia and raised his eyebrows questioningly.  
  
"Why should I repeat myself again if you didn't even bother to listen the first time?" she pursed her lips, apparently annoyed she was not heard. Harry mumbled a sorry, but wanting to always be heard, Aunt Petunia spoke up again.  
  
"I said I..I...," she stammered. "I'm s..s..sorry to hear about Furious Mack or whatever his name was!" she smiled triumphantly. Harry's jaw dropped.  
  
"Sorry? Sorry? You can't even remember his name when you mean to make the death of my godfather a joke! What do you mean you're sorry?" he burst out in rage. Aunt Petunia looked bewildered that Harry was actually upset at her. Uncle Vernon stood up and looked down upon Harry.  
  
"That was no joke boy! If you recall, we never made the death of your mum and dad a joke! WE WOULDN'T STOOP THAT LOW! SO WHEN YOUR AUNT PETUNIA APOLOGIZES, YOU BETTER BE GREATFUL OR I'LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO BE UPSET ABOUT!" Uncle Vernon roared. Dudley was lost in a fit of silent laughter. Harry whirled around to Aunt Petunia, fists clenched.  
  
"How can I believe you? You've never said anything nice about my mum! You never loved her!" Harry said, fury burning his throat.  
  
"She was my sister! Of course I loved her!" Aunt Petunia shot back. Uncle Vernon looked like he was on the verge of fainting. His wife actually said she loved some weird witch! Uncle Vernon and Harry were both frozen with surprise. Even Dudley had stopped laughing.  
  
"And I knew Sirius!" she exclaimed. Harry's heart suddenly sunk. She continued, "You think once she went to that stupid school that I never heard from her again? She talked about James and Sirius all the time in her letters to my mum! They both showed up at my house for Christmas one time! Total nutters both of them," she quickly reassured Uncle Vernon. "I didn't know him as well as you did, and I'm not sad he died, but when I try to apologize, remember, I grew up with a witch and her crazy friends Harry." That had done it. She, nor Uncle Vernon, or Dudley, had ever addressed him as Harry. His head began to swim, unaware of his fingernails digging into the palm of his hands.  
  
"But I knew you loved him and I am a fool for love. So what I'm—Harry look at me when I'm talking to you," he slowly lifted his head to meet her eyes. "Harry, I am sorry Sirius died." Harry's eyes swelled with tears, but he fought them back. He cleared his throat and barely above a whisper asked, "Dumbledore or anyone else didn't put you up to this?"  
  
"Did you see any ruddy owls fly through here boy?" Uncle Vernon answered for her.  
  
"No one," Aunt Petunia said. Harry looked around the room. He looked at where the pudding once sat on the table until Dobby dropped it on Mrs. Mason's head. He looked at the floor, ceiling and at the scrawny, undercooked sliver of steak in front of him. Then he looked at Dudley, Uncle Vernon, and especially at Aunt Petunia. Harry unclenched his fists, placed them on the table, and began to smooth out the table cloth. For a split second, he wondered if he had suddenly gone deaf because the only audible sound that echoed throughout Number Four Privet Drive was the perpetual hum of the summer heat.  
  
"Well," he paused, breaking the silence, "well th—thank you."


	2. Imperius Eyes

2. Imperius Eyes  
  
Harry stared at them before excusing himself and slumping upstairs. His head was pounding with rage, fear, sadness, and unanswered questions. He looked at the clock in the hallway. It read 8:30, but Harry didn't care what time it was. It was sort of a habit that he got into a year before his first year at Hogwarts. He reluctantly got dressed into his night clothes and collapsed onto his bed. Hedwig's amber eyes lit the room and Harry decided he'd write Hermione and Ron in the morning about his aunt's sympathy towards Sirius. The darkness felt good on his red and puffy eyes. He removed his glasses and closed his heavy eyelids. Before Harry had time to collect his thoughts about the day, he was lost in a deep sleep.  
  
Once again Harry found himself in the Ministry of Magic, only this time, he was in the lobby, not the Department of Mysteries. The gold fountain that had obviously been repaired was the only shine in the room. The fireplaces had lost their gleam. The wood floor had turned dull and dusty. Cob webs were everywhere. It was like the place was abandoned. Harry wondered to the grille of the elevator, hoping to find that the floor that Mr. Weasley worked at was full of life. To his disappointment, the grille was locked. The phone booth leading to the entrance to the Ministry was on the ground in pieces. There was no sense of life anywhere. All of the sudden a shadow from behind the wizard of the fountain caught Harry's eye. It stared at him. The only visibly part of this shadow were its eyes. One was green with a black slit, the other crimson with a gold slit. Harry stood, transfixed by these eyes. The shadow moved away into the light. A short, plump woman, with the body of a toad stood facing him. She wore a big plumb hat and a smile was spread across her face. Curls of her mousy grey hair peeked out from under the oversized hat. Her cold, snake like eyes gazed into his.  
  
"Professor Umbridge?" Harry managed to ask. The woman strode a little closer to him.  
  
"In her body, but it's not quite her," said a deep, hissing male voice that took the place of Umbridge's shrill, girlish one. Harry stared in horror. He had heard this voice before; in the graveyard where Cedric died, and right here, right by the fountain last year.  
  
"Is, is she..is she dead?" Harry asked stupidly. Professor Umbridge took another step closer to Harry. His legs seemed to fail him, though he didn't know where to run if they did work.  
  
"You're not as smart as I thought you were Potter. Does she look dead to you?! She's simply under the Imperius Curse! Can't you see it in her eyes?" the voice spat. Harry felt violently ill. It had never occurred to him that this voice of the Dark Lord had once been able to see into his thoughts. Professor Umbridge's smile widened.  
  
"You thought I had no weapon left didn't you Potter? After your idiot friend dropped the Prophecy."  
  
"Yes. Neville is an idiot isn't he?" Harry asked the voice. Umbridge's smile faded.  
  
"You agreed with me Potter?" The smile flickered back on. Harry stood still, rooted to the spot.  
  
"Yes I believe I did. Neville can never do anything right. He's such a waste of creation," Harry snickered. Professor Umbridge strode so close to Harry that he could smell her breath. It smelt like rotting, deteriorating flesh. Her eyes burned green and red. There was a fiery resemblance about them. Her fake smile crept along her cheeks.  
  
"Wouldn't it be easier Potter," the voice whispered, "to just give in? To give into me and forget it all? To forget about your troubles at school? Grades? Girls? Friends? Sirius? Wouldn't that just make life a lot easier?" Harry had a glazed look in his eye. He smiled and said: "Yes. Yes Lord Voldemort." Professor Umbridge whipped out a wand and pointed it at Harry's heart.  
  
"Liar! It wouldn't be easier! You'd turn me in! You know what would be easier Potter? IF I WERE TO KILL YOU! AVADA KEDAVRA!" A green wisp of energy shot out from the end of Professor Umbridge's wand. Her face was hidden behind a sullen, white, sunken in one with red eyes. Laughter shook the Ministry walls. He lied lifeless on the floor. Then two glowing eyes appeared. One foggy green with a black slit, the other crimson with a gold slit. All went black.  
  
Harry shot back into consciousness. His scar seared with pain. The unbearable heat did nothing to make it better. He was sweating a cold sweat. His eyes were blurry. He grabbed his glasses and stared into the hot black of the room. He tried to get up, but an excruciating pain in his chest made him fall to the floor. He touched where the curse would have hit him. It felt hot and burnt. The pain of his scar and chest was too much. He vomited onto the floor. This woke up Hedwig who was not happy about not getting any sleep. She started thrashing around in her cage. Harry could not stop vomiting. A light clicked on in the hall and Harry heard the heavy footsteps of Uncle Vernon treading their way to his door.  
  
"What the devil is going on in-" Uncle Vernon's words were cut off by the sudden sound of Harry heaving onto the floor. Uncle Vernon switched on the light. His scar and chest pounded against him and he threw up again.  
  
"Turn it off! Turn it off! It-" he vomited. "It hurts! It's too bright!" His vomiting had subsided and he shakily hoisted himself onto his bed. His night clothes were covered in sweat and vomit. The place in his chest where he had been hit with the curse started feeling wet. Harry looked down and saw blood seep through his clothes. Uncle Vernon stumbled around Harry's vomit and over to his bed.  
  
"What the HELL happened?" he screamed in Harry's face. Uncle Vernon's words were barely audible to Harry. His mind was swollen with fear and he felt dizzy. The summer heat washed over him and the smell of sick tickled his nose. In the background, he could still hear Uncle Vernon mumbling nonsense and then calling for Aunt Petunia. She, bleary eyed, stumbled in and looked into the blackness of the room. She switched on a light and Harry's eyes burned.  
  
"Turn it off Petunia or he'll chuck again!" Uncle Vernon was yelling. She took one glance around the room and then ran towards the bathroom. Harry lay there, sweating uncontrollably. This by far was the worst dream he had ever had of Voldemort. As he started breathing more slowly and his pain slowly decreased, Uncle Vernon's words became more understandable.  
  
".Got to get you to a hospital boy," he snarled through gritted teeth. "In the middle of the bloody night! You know how much this is going to cost me?"  
  
" You.you can't!" Harry shouted. "I might get my 'needed items' letter tomorrow and an owl flying through the hospital might.might," he stuttered. He wanted an excuse to not go to the hospital. It would be worse there. A bunch of muggle doctors diagnosing him with weird sicknesses and using unfamiliar practices was not what Harry needed right now.  
  
"Spit it out!" Uncle Vernon demanded.  
  
"Might get terrified and then get suspicious and you.you would be humiliated." Uncle Vernon stood over Harry, carefully considering this.  
  
"I don't want you throwing up the whole night! I have work in the morning!" Uncle Vernon said after a while. Damn! Harry thought.  
  
"Well it was probably just the heat and I'm fine now and think of all the money you'd be saving," Harry goaded. Uncle Vernon shot Harry a very nasty look, not wanting to admit he was right, he turned on his heel and walked away.  
  
"You'll clean this up in the morning. Understood?" he said heading back to his bedroom. Harry waited a few minutes then cracked his window open a little more. The smell of his vomit was gagging him. He stared at the dark ceiling. It seemed to move back and forth in a swinging motion. Harry felt like he was about to pass out. He closed his eyes and let the comfort of silence and the quiet rhythm of chirping crickets lull him back to sleep. He had just nodded off when a swooping noise grew louder and louder in his ear. He opened his eyes to see the outline of an owl. Harry stuck out his arm cautiously to allow the owl to come to him. It accepted his offer and walked to his elbow. The eyes were red and green. Harry yelled in horror, reliving his nightmare. Uncle Vernon came rushing into the room to find the Harry yelling at a harmless owl.  
  
"Taking you to see the family therapist tomorrow after work!! And would you shut up?" Uncle Vernon screamed as he slammed his door shut again. Harry was whimpering now. The owl, upset that he had been shrieked at, stuck out its leg impatiently so that Harry could read the letter. He cautiously reached toward the leg and untied the letter. The owl took flight before waiting for him to read as it had done the previous time. It was from Professor Umbridge.  
  
Better watch what you're dreaming about Potter!  
~Professor Umbridge  
(Signed professor for a reason. Ha ha)  
  
Harry felt as if a lead ball had just been dropped in the pit of his stomach. He fought back the urge to vomit again and tore up the letter. How did she know about my dream? And why did she sign under professor? He decided the first thing tomorrow morning, before cleaning up the sickness all over the floor, he would write to Ron and Hermione and tell them everything, even if his letter was intercepted. Then a new wave of terror consumed him. The family therapist, yet another muggle doctor. How could he explain to him his dream?  
  
"Why does every summer go wrong?" he asked himself out loud. The summer of his first year, chaos was caused when he set a boa constrictor free and set it on Dudley. His second year summer was horrible when Dobby upset everyone by dumping pudding on Mrs. Mason's head. During his third year summer, Aunt Marge inflated like a big air balloon, fourth summer: he had that terrible dream of the Riddle house and in his last year's summer, dementors acted both him and Dudley and he was forced to attack them with a patronus, causing him to almost be expelled. Now this summer he was dealing with the loss of Sirius and now he had to go see a therapist. What else is new? Harry thought to himself before falling back asleep, dreading tomorrow night. 


	3. The Therapist

3. The Therapist  
  
He awoke the next morning to the unpleasant voice of Uncle Vernon. He had said something about taking the day off because the therapist could only see him when he was at work and before he knew it, he was being yanked out of bed by Uncle Vernon. Harry put on a pair of dirty denim jeans and a plain white t-shirt. He brushed his jet black hair out of his eyes and proceeded downstairs.  
"Where are we going?" he asked drowsily.  
"Do I need to take you to the ear doctor too? Can't you hear? I said the therapist can't see me after work so I'm taking the day off. Not for you of course, for my own good or else I would have rescheduled," he grumbled. Harry rolled his eyes behind Uncle Vernon's back and trudged out the door to the car. The black leather burned his bottom as he sat down in the front seat. A few minutes later, Uncle Vernon came out along with Dudley.  
"Get outta my seat. You sit in the back," Dudley informed him.  
"Yeah I'm not stupid. I do sit in the back when you're with us. You're not coming so shut up because I'm sitting here."  
"That's what you think smart ass! I'm going with you guys!"  
"Why would you want to come?" Harry asked, not moving a single inch.  
"Because he's interested in becoming a psychiatrist you dumb git! Now move!" Harry unbuckled as slowly as possible and moved towards the back. The car shook as Dudley's massive body hit the seat. Uncle Vernon just smiled at him.  
"And I want to see what's wrong with you. Laugh so hard if you're crazy just like your parents and your godfather," Dudley taunted. Outraged Harry lurched forward and seized Dudley buy his hair and pulled him to his face. Some reason, Uncle Vernon was oblivious to his actions.  
"You.say.one.more.word.about.my.parents.or.my.godfather. and.I will.kill.you. Even.if.it.means.getting.expelled!" Harry hissed through grinding teeth. Dudley gave a short whimper and Harry tugged with all his might at his hair. Dudley wailed and Harry instantly let go.  
"What is it Duddy?" Uncle Vernon asked sweetly. Harry mouthed, "I'm dead serious" at Dudley whose eyes grew into large orbs.  
"Uh.the.uh.the seat is, um, hot Dad," Dudley stammered. Uncle Vernon grunted a reply and they were off to the doctor's office. The car ride was a semi-quiet one. No one talked, but Dudley belted out singing (more like screaming) to one of his heavy metal CDs.  
"'Cause I'm back! Yes, I'm back. Well, I'm back. Yes, I'm back. Well I'm back, BACK I'M BACK IN BLACK! YES I'M BACK IN BLACK!" Dudley was singing. Every time he yelled "black" Harry felt like the air pressure in the room had just gotten heavier. He couldn't take it any longer and had to do something about it.  
"Can we turn this off?" he asked uncertainly.  
"No I like AC/DC and I like this song," said a stubborn Dudley as he turned it up even louder than before. To Harry's luck the song ended a minute or so later and another one started up having nothing to do with the word black. He thought about an owl fluttering into the therapist's office and dropping a letter on his lap. Everything would be chaos to explain. What the titles of the books meant and what Hogwarts even was was hard enough to come up with an excuse. Trying to prepare for the worst, the two Dursleys and Harry rolled up into the parking lot of the therapist's office. They all got out and walked in. It was an odd little office. There was a stone staircase (much like Dumbledore's) leading up into another room and there were pictures of someone holding a broomstick, looking very excited. Then there was all these awards plastered next to the pictures and on the top shelve Harry could have sworn he saw a wand.  
"May I help you?" came a squeaky voice from behind the lobby desk. A lady stood up and looked down at her appointment book. She had very curly blonde hair and a large mole on her left cheek. Her bottom lip stuck out and she had the beginnings of a uni-brow. Uncle Vernon slightly jumped back at the sight of her.  
"Er, yes you may. I have an appointment with Dr. Renton today at 7:45 for Harry Potter." He jerked his thumb towards Harry who stood behind Dudley.  
"Yes just on time Mr. Dursley. Please ascend up this staircase here. Dr. Renton is awaiting your arrival," she smiled. Dudley was the first to the staircase.  
"I'm sorry Tiny, but only Mr. Dursley and Harry, of course, are allowed up in Dr. Renton's office," she stopped him.  
"But I'm his cousin. That makes me family lady!" Dudley protested.  
"I'm sorry. It is Dr. Renton's orders that only the parents of the patient are allowed in his office." Dudley stamped over to a waiting bench and sulked. A small smile spread across Harry's lips. Mr. Dursley huffed up the stairs with Harry at his heels. They came up to a hallway and knocked on the only door there. It opened by itself to reveal someone sitting in a leather arm chair with their back towards them. He slowly spun around with a faint smile on his lips and his fingers pressed together.  
"Good morning Vernon. Oh and this must be Harry Potter. Thee Harry Potter," the man chuckled. There in the chair sat a young man. He had a cleft chin and brown spiky hair. He had deep blue with a hint of green eyes and spoke in a very heavy Scottish accent.  
"Ewan Renton," he stuck out his hand. "Pleasure finally meeting you Harry." Harry feebly shook his hand as he flashed a big smile. Harry was surprised to see that Uncle Vernon was undaunted by Ewan knowing who Harry was.  
"With all do respect Dr. Renton, how, um, do you know who I am?" Harry asked in a quiet voice. Ewan quickly cocked his head to a picture of a man over the couch Harry was to lay down on while talking to him so that Uncle Vernon wouldn't see. The man had a long silver beard, blue eyes, and was wearing half-moon spectacles. Harry suddenly realized that it was a still photo of Dumbledore.  
"Your Aunt Petunia Harry. When you showed up on her doorstep, she started seeing me. Said she didn't know how to handle you, after her sister died. Plus, I knew Lily and James," he answered Harry when Uncle Vernon fumbled impatiently with the hem of his shirt, waiting for an answer from Ewan. His eyes widened at the mention of James and Lily.  
"I never knew you knew them! How do you know them?" he spat. The smile fell from Ewan's face.  
"Confidential information Vernon. Let's keep to the subject." Harry was just as surprised as Uncle Vernon was. Ewan told Harry to lie down on the couch and stare up at the picture. Then Ewan slowly bent down and whispered in Harry's ear.  
"He says hi Harry," Ewan said. Harry propped himself up on his elbow and looked into Ewan's eyes. And as if reading Harry's mind Ewan answered, "we'll discuss that after this appointment."  
"Discuss what Dr. Renton?" Uncle Vernon asked suspiciously. He looked somewhat hurt that no one had talked to him yet.  
"Nothing Vernon. Don't worry your pretty little head. Confidential discussion between patient and doctor. You are allowed to stay in the room while I interrogate, but if I talk about things you don't understand, I cannot share them with you under penalty of law," Ewan informed him, his Scottish accent livening up the room. Uncle Vernon inhaled deeply and sat up a little straighter in his seat. Ewan got up from his seat and pulled out a clip board from one of the desks drawers. He walked over to the couch and pulled up a chair. He then slipped on a pair of reading glasses.  
"Now, what brought you here today Harry?" Ewan asked. Harry began feeling nervous. What if I say the wrong thing and they think I'm a nutter? He thought nervously.  
"My Uncle Vernon Dr. Renton," Harry replied. He could feel beads of sweat trickle down his forehead. Ewan laughed a little.  
"I know he brought you here Harry, but what I mean is what made you decided to come and talk to me today?"  
"I didn't decide to come here Dr. Renton. He made me," Harry threw a nasty glance towards Uncle Vernon who threw one back.  
"I see. I see. Well, what do you think gave him the idea to take you here? I mean I don't think Vernon woke up yesterday and decided you should come and talk to me today," Ewan asked while looking at his clip board. Harry was becoming irritated. I don't know! I really don't want to be here right now! How 'bout I answer one of your stupid questions like that?  
"I don't know Dr. Renton."  
"Harry-you don't have to end every sentence with 'Dr. Renton'. And, what? You don't know?"  
"I'll tell you why I made him come here! He was muttering in his bloody sleep! Wakin' me up and then threw up all over the place! Then an owl comes in and he's used to those effing owls, and he starts yelling like he's never seen one before!" Uncle Vernon replied all in one breath.  
"That true Harry?" Ewan asked.  
"'Course it's true! You think I'd miss pay day just to make up something?"  
"Wait until I ask you Vernon," Ewan said under his breath. All of the sudden an owl floated up onto the window sill of Ewan's office. It pecked at the window. Ewan turned around and tried to scare it off. It didn't move.  
"I'm busy at the moment you stupid owl! Go deliver it downstairs!" Harry looked at Ewan in amazement. How could he possibly know about mail by owl? He was, after all, a muggle or else why would Uncle Vernon call him the family therapist. Unless, Harry though. Unless he didn't know he wasn't a muggle. The owl stuck out its leg to reveal Harry's name on the envelope. He clenched his teeth. Uncle Vernon looked nervous.  
"Looks like someone's pet has been trained to send letters to you Harry," Ewan said trying to reassure Uncle Vernon that he thought nothing suspicious. "Someone trained their owl to deliver mail to me too. What people will do to save on postage eh Vernon?" Uncle Vernon swallowed as if relieved that Ewan had no clue why owls brought Harry mail.  
"Er, yes. It's quite mad," he replied shakily. Trying to avoid anything else unusual that might come up, he quickly said: "You know, I think I'll leave this to you two and go sit with Dudley. Poor boy must be lonely."  
"No one's stopping you!" Harry spat. Uncle Vernon threw him a death threatening glance then disappeared out the door. Ewan got up and opened the window for the owl to come in. It swooped in and dropped the letter on Harry's lap then flew back out. Due to the Hogwarts seal on the back, Harry knew it was his list of books and other items he'd need for his sixth year and so tucked it away in his jeans pocket. Ewan removed his glasses and placed his hands to his eyes. He drew a deep breath.  
"I Don't mean to bring up any bad memories," he said, voice quivering, "but I am terribly sorry to here about Sirius. He was a great man." Harry was definitely feeling uncomfortable at this point. He looked up at Ewan and his lip curled.  
"'Fraid I have some explaining to do don't I Harry?" He took his hand away from his face. "I'm not a muggle," he started off. "I am a graduate from Hogwarts and that's how I know Dumbledore. Great man is he. Merlin's Beard he's brilliant." Yeah well I beg to differ sometimes, Harry thought recalling when Dumbledore told him how he failed to tell Harry why Voldemort tried to kill him as a baby.  
"Yeah," Harry trailed off deciding to not say what he had thought.  
"Got into Muggle studies with a good friend of mine named Arthur Weasley. I believe you know him?" Harry nodded. "Anyways I worked with him at the Ministry for some time. That's how I got into psychiatry. I wanted to know why muggles thought what they did and how their minds worked so I decided to take up this profession. I knew Lily and James through mutual friendship. Well, I dated Lily before James did for a while. We just sort of had different interests, but were still friends when she dated James. I wasn't the most popular wizard at school and that's why I didn't hang with them as much, but like I said, we were still friends. I was a bit jealous of him though when he dated Lily.  
"I met Sirius when I became a Death Eater. You see, we were both into the Dark Arts and I was his partner once in Defense Against Dark Arts class. We could give off the most powerful curses and that's how we became friends. When James was with Lily and Remus and Peter were involved in something else, Sirius and I would sneak off into the Forbidden Forest and curse the nearby centaurs. I guess that's why their hate towards humans increased. I quit being a Death Eater, not in fear of Voldemort, but in fear of the people I still cared about and my interests in muggles. I quit a month before, well, before your parents were killed. At first I felt a bit insecure that I had just quit supporting an extremely powerful wizard, but I knew it was the right thing. Sirius and I kind of lost touch with each other after he was imprisoned. Bet he never told you about me did he? Nope didn't think so, would have brought back too many memories. Harry, I want you to know that I cried very hard when I found out that.that.that Sirius had died. I went back and looked through all my old pictures of me, him, James, Lily, and Remus. Peter never wanted to be in any pictures. Said he wasn't 'photogenic'. I'm telling you this so you know that someone does understand how you feel about your godfather Harry.  
"Then 15 years ago I met your Aunt Petunia. Oh the hatred she had towards the world of wizards and witches almost drove me mad. What kept me sane was that she was Lily's sister and a way of your Aunt Petunia dealing with depression is through anger. She may seem angry with you all the time because she gets depressed every time she sees you Harry. You have your mum's eyes and when she looks at you, she sees her sister staring back at her. Her sister, even though jealous of all the attention she got from your Aunt Petunia's mum and dad, her sister that she loved. And through your eyes she also sees her childhood. She's wants to forget her past. I know you went out to Hogsmead with a girl named Cho Chang who clung onto the past too tightly. For people like Cho and Petunia, the past is hard to let go of. Especially if you lose someone you love. Harry I admire you. Not just because of your survival of Voldemort, but because you've lost your parents and Sirius, and you are still finding strength to live. These next few years of your life will be the most exciting, yet the most horrible. You are experiencing so many different things; so many different emotions towards your friends, other people, James, Lily, and Sirius that it can be overwhelming. You're a fighter Harry just like James and Sirius were. Stay strong for them." Harry's eyes were now watering. So many painful subjects had risen during this appointment. It hit him hard that he now had no one to run too. He couldn't talk to Sirius anymore and Dumbledore was way too busy. As much as he liked Ron and Hermione, they just wouldn't understand. Neither of them had lost anyone. He dried his eyes on his shirt as Ewan sat down next to him.  
"You need to get away from the Dursleys don't you Harry?" Harry nodded. "Very well. I shall convince Vernon to let you stay at the Weasley's house until the rest of summer. I'm sure he won't have any objection to that. I shall write Arthur or Molly and let them know what's happening. In the meantime I'll give you a few minutes to yourself while I talk to Vernon." Harry laid back down on the couch. His tears flooded out from under his closed eye lids that he had just dried. He didn't even get to say goodbye to Sirius. 


	4. Confession without Words

4. Confession without Words  
  
He sat there for a while, losing track of time. It seemed ages ago when Dr. Renton had left the room and he had not returned to his office yet. This could only mean one thing; Mr. Dursley had an objection to Harry staying at Ron's for the summer. Although there had not been any shouting or cursing, Harry could hear muffled voices from downstairs squabbling about something. He took one last deep breath and headed out the door, wiping his eyes to hide any evidence that he had been crying. He peered over the stair railing to see what was happening. They obviously heard him and called him downstairs.  
"Harry, I think it would be good if you came down here and had your word in this," Ewan said, not taking his eyes off Uncle Vernon. Uncle Vernon's temples were pulsating and he was breathing through clenched teeth. Dudley was still sulking in the corner. He shuffled downstairs to Ewan's side and looked up at both of them. Uncle Vernon took this as a cue to start telling his side of the story.  
"Yer not going to that blasted friend's of yours!" he shouted in his face.  
"What? Why not? You've always wanted me out of the house!" Harry fired back. Uncle Vernon opened his mouth to speak, but Ewan cut him off.  
"He's concerned for your safety."  
"Ha! When did you ever start caring about how safe I am? The only reason you kept me is so that Dumbledore wouldn't kick your ass!"  
"Don't.use.that.language.in.front.of.me.boy!" Uncle Vernon now had spit fly out of the corners of his mouth as he talked. Ewan looked baffled.  
"How do you know Dumbledore Vernon?" he asked with curiosity, but Uncle Vernon was cut off again and this time by Harry.  
"He wanted to throw me out of the house last year 'cause I saved Dudley's life over there," he pointed to the sulking Dudley. "My Aunt Petunia then got a howler from Professor Dumbledore saying that they better not." There was an awkward silence where no one spoke. Not even the phone rang on the lobby desk. A tsunami of silence had knocked them off their feet and onto the shore of "no speaking".  
"Wait a bloody minute," Uncle Vernon breathed breaking the silence. "How do you know about Dumbledore? Oh my Holy Heaven! Are you a wizard?" Uncle Vernon stammered in shock. Harry's heart sank, knowing that this man's career and reputation were over after word got out that he wasn't like the rest of them.  
"Seriously Vernon, do I look like a wizard? Do you see any 'magical' items anywhere throughout my room?" he asked in a hurt manner. Uncle Vernon considered this and then said: "No. No you don't, but how do you know about the owls then?"  
"Vernon. If you think I am a wizard, do you really think I'd waste my time listening to people's problems? Don't you think, using my magical powers, I'd be the owner of some wealthy business?" Ewan fired back. Uncle Vernon raised a questioning eyebrow.  
"And, if that is not enough to convince you," he went on. "I know about Dumbledore through Petunia. I know about the owls because I have a friend who is a witch and she uses them. Don't think I don't know about these things Vernon. I'm not as naïve as I look. What? Did you expect me not to know about Harry?" Uncle Vernon stumbled back in horror. There you go Uncle Vernon. Someone's discovered your secret. What are you going to say now? Harry smiled to himself.  
"An..and just what are y.you smiling about boy?"  
"Oh come on now Vernon? All those times I made you leave the room for Petunia, you don't think she told me about Harry?" Ewan asked disgusted.  
"Even so Dr. Renton, Harry shall not be visiting he's freaky friends over the summer. Yes, I am worried about what's-his-name coming and disturbing my family and that's why he won't go! He told Petunia to not throw him out of the house!" Ewan looked taken aback. Harry shoved his hands into his pockets feeling an uncontrollable rage towards Uncle Vernon. He sneered triumphantly, knowing he had won this argument. Harry egged himself on to figure out a way to over come this. What else had Dumbledore told him about why he had to stay at the Dursley's?  
"Because they love me," he whispered. Ewan and Uncle Vernon looked down on him.  
"What was that?" Ewan asked eagerly.  
"I couldn't leave because where the Dursley's were, they, er, loved me. If they threw me out, I would have no where to go and Voldemort," Ewan cringed a little, "would get to me. But when I was at the Weasley's during my second year he didn't try to get to me then because, well, I, um, guess they love me." Harry finished as Ewan punched the air with his fist. Uncle Vernon's lip curled and Dudley (eaves dropping on the conversation) gave a loud "humph" and punched his fist into his hand.  
  
The car ride home was dead quiet. Dudley didn't dare turn on his music again and just stared out the window. Uncle Vernon had such a tight grip on the steering wheel that his knuckles were turning white. Harry was sitting on his hands because the seat was too hot for his thighs. They rolled up into the driveway and Harry unbuckled, eager to go write to Hermione and Ron. Uncle Vernon was the first to get out of the car and as he slammed the door, the car shook. Dudley got out next and Harry was about to open the door when he felt a heavy force against it.  
"Hot enough in there for you?" Dudley shouted through the glass. Harry's glassed were fogging up. Dudley then turned around and pushed as hard as he could up against the door.  
"Like watching a hamster in a wheel, I'll watch you sweat a little before I let you out," he smirked. Sweat was dripping out of every pour and Harry started laughing.  
"You're forgetting that there are three other doors I can get out from you fat idiot," Harry said as he let himself out on the left side. Dudley came charging at him and gave Harry a nice right hook to the jaw.  
"Don't talk to me like that again you psycho! Heard the conversation through the door upstairs. Heard you're plain crazy," as Dudley laughed at his own comment, Harry tackled him to the ground and suddenly jumped off as he heard a great smack on the concrete.  
"Oh my head! What the bloody hell is wrong with you!" Dudley slurred. He touched the back of his head with his hand to see if there was any blood. There wasn't.  
"I'm not so scrawny after all huh Duddy kins?" Harry pulled up his shirt sleeves to reveal two muscular arms. An owl came fluttering down and landed on Harry's wrist.  
"Pigwidgeon!" Harry yelled as he untied the letter from his leg.  
  
Harry dear! Of course you can stay with us! Hermione is staying too. Ron is so excited that you get to spend another summer with us! You are always a pleasure to have around. Get packing, we'll be there soon! We'll be arriving by Floo, so wait for us by your fireplace.  
Love,  
Molly  
  
His heart filled with joy as he let Pigwidgeon fly back home. He ran upstairs and started packing his things, throwing everything in in a non- orderly fashion. He picked up his trunk and Hedwig's cage (with Hedwig in it of course) and sat in front of the fireplace. Two minutes passed. No one came. He looked at Dudley in the living room who had an ice pack on the back of his head. Ten Minutes passed and still no sign of a Weasley.  
"Why you still here?" Uncle Vernon grunted. Harry rolled his eyes.  
"Because they haven't come yet obviously." Uncle Vernon walked away cursing about Harry under his breath. Harry sat on the couch twiddling his thumbs. Suddenly, a green fire had burst to life in the fire place as Ron and Hermione slid onto the carpet, spreading ash everywhere.  
"H..H..Harry!" Ron choked out! He ran over to him and patted him on the back. Hermione dusted herself off and greeted Harry with an enormous hug. Wow! Hermione! She pulled herself off him, blushing slightly.  
"Well come on then mate! Ain't got that much time. Here, toss me your trunk," Ron said in a business like manner. "Hermione will take Hedwig."  
"Thanks, but I could carry my trunk you know. He flashed one of his arms. Hermione's eyes lit up as Ron laughed a little to himself.  
"No, no. You've already had a tough summer I bet. You always seem too," Ron spoke in a deep voice. At this they laughed and started to gather up Harry's things.  
"Um, I'll be right back. I just have to, er, say goodbye to my Aunt and Uncle," Harry said unenthusiastically. Ron and Hermione exchanged confused glances, but then nodded at Harry. He walked off into the next room where all three of them were seated on the couch watching television. They looked up at him because he was standing in front of the screen.  
"Um, goodbye?" It was more of a question than a statement. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia looked puzzled that Harry would actually take the time to say goodbye to them.  
"Bye. Now move, you're in our way," Uncle Vernon said at last. Dudley didn't say or do anything and so Harry left the room.  
"Bye Harry," he heard a small voice follow him out of the room. He turned to see that it was Aunt Petunia. Uncle Vernon had the same shocked look as Harry did, but not wanting to seem rude, he smiled a little and waved.  
"Shall we?" Harry asked Ron and Hermione as he reentered the room.  
"We shall," Hermione responded. Ron took Harry's trunk, Harry took Hedwig's cage and together they stepped into the furnace and were instantly swallowed by a mouth of huge, green flames. They swooshed up and up, banging their sides against the inside.  
BAM! They landed on the Burrow floor with a sickening thud. Ron came zooming out first, then Harry and then Hermione, who landed on top of Ron.  
"Well there you go Ron," Harry laughed, "Hermione's on top of you at last!" Hermione removed herself from on top of him and punched Harry in the arm who was still laughing. Ron dusted himself off and they both watched as Hermione went into the kitchen to say hello to Ginny.  
"I should travel with her more often," Ron whispered and they laughed all the way to the kitchen. There, Harry was greeted by Fred, George, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley. They all crowded around him to say hi.  
"Oh Harry, dear it is so nice to see you once again!" Mrs. Weasley said as she pulled Harry into a tight hug.  
"Thank you for having me. I'm sorry if I'm imposing on you guys but my-," he stopped. They'll think I'm insane if I told them I had a psychiatrist, he thought angrily.  
"But your what Harry?" Ginny asked. He looked around them.  
"My psychiatrist said it was a good idea to get away from the Dursleys," he mumbled, embarrassed. They all exchanged a look of concern.  
"Why'd you go to a psychiatrist Harry?" George asked in a serious tone.  
"I had a weird dream, tell you lot about it later, but I woke up with my scar burning. Nothing new, only I dreamt that Voldemort-oh Ron honestly!- killed me. So when I woke up, my chest hurt also and it started bleeding, but then stopped and then Umbridge's owl delivered a letter to me and I was scared still and was yelling and my uncle said I needed to see his psychiatrist," he told them all in one breath. Their looks didn't show satisfaction so Harry told him the whole bit.  
"Well no wonder you were yelling at the owl Harry!" Fred said accusingly. "You shoulda told your uncle about that, you should've."  
"Yeah, but he would only think of me more crazy then he thought I was. Plus, the psychiatrist wasn't a muggle." They all looked at him in surprise.  
"I thought your Uncle Vernon hated wizards dear," Mrs. Weasley told him with an odd expression about her face.  
"He said he knew Mr. Weasley. His name is Ewan Renton," Harry told her. At the name her face lit up with happiness.  
"Oh yes! I forgot he was a psychiatrist! Isn't he a nice man that Ewan?" she squealed with delight.  
"Er, yeah. He gave my Aunt Petunia therapy," he said as Mrs. Weasley bustled off to the stove to cook something.  
"Dumbledore has been letting you live with a nutter?" Ron asked. An unexpected rage filled Harry.  
"She's not a nutter!" He yelled in her defense. They looked at him suspiciously.  
"Wow Harry. Never knew you, um, felt anything towards your aunt after the way they have treated you," Hermione somewhat whimpered. Now that he thought of it, Aunt Petunia hadn't really done anything to Harry, but ignore him. Uncle Vernon made all the nasty comments and thought up all the punishments. There was a slight silence.  
"Well love to stay and chat but me an' George best be heading back to the store. It's doing great!" Fred exclaimed as he clapped Harry on the shoulder. Mrs. Weasley simultaneously cleared her throat.  
"And I'm meeting Dean at the shop! See you later Harry!" Ginny said as she ran to catch up with Fred and George. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all went back up to Harry and Ron's room to sit and chat.  
"What I didn't tell you guys down there was that the letter Umbridge sent me when I was screaming at the owl was that it was signed under 'professor'. She might be coming back guys," Harry whispered. Ron made a gagging noise while Hermione simply stiffened up a little.  
"She can't come back! She screwed everyone last year! She tried to get Dumbledore fired along with Hagrid! Why would he give her a second chance?" Ron asked, anger tinting his voice.  
"Because Dumbledore's a good and forgiving man," Hermione said. "Right Harry?" she asked, scooting a little closer to him.  
"Well yeah, but still. I wouldn't be that generous as to give that toad a second chance," Harry replied. Ron's lip curled. "She also said she was authorized to intercept my letter I was sending to Hermione."  
"Sending letters to Hermione about what!?" Ron jumped up. Hermione and Harry laughed at his actions.  
"About my Time Turner," Hermione said.  
"Your what?"  
"Never mind Ron. It was an idea Harry had that might bring Sirius back," she said in a hushed voice, trying to avoid eye contact with Harry.  
"The other weird thing about the dream was that," he paused, took a deep breath and went on, "That I agreed with Voldemort about Neville."  
"That can't be a good sign, but then again it's only a dream," Ron said.  
"Only a dream? Ron, my chest was BLEEDING after it! I couldn't stop throwing up and light burnt me eyes! It's more than a dream Ron! More than that!" Harry yelled, outraged at him. Hermione slowly took Harry's hand in hers so that Ron couldn't see on the other side. Harry looked at Hermione. She gave him a sympathetic look and then, as not to make Ron feel bad said: "He's only looking on the bright side."  
"Yeah that's all mate. Of course it's more than a dream. I wouldn't just blow you off like that," he apologized. Harry's strong hand was still laced in her dainty one, but for some reason, he liked it like that. He felt bad though, knowing Ron had a major crush on Hermione and loosened his grip from hers a little.  
"How about we ask Dumbledore about it when we get to school?" Hermione suggested. Ron agreed but Harry looked down at this shoes.  
"I just, you know, sometimes feel like people think the only reason I run to Dumbledore is to prove myself. Like I think they think I'm a show off. Plus, he's way too busy now days," Harry mumbled gloomily. "If it happens again I'll go talk to, er, someone. I don't want the first night back to Hogwarts to be stressful."  
"Harry," Hermione said, "If Dumbledore didn't want to help out students, then why would he be a headmaster?"  
"I just don't want to go talk to him about it on the first night back okay?" He scowled, now totally taking his hand away. Even so, she seemed undaunted by it.  
"Well," Ron started up. "Who wants a butterbeer?" Harry was relieved to hear that it wasn't on the topic of Dumbledore and grumbled that he needed one. They all went downstairs to find lunch on the table. Once again, Mrs. Weasley had made too much food for them to eat. There were sandwiches of almost every type, goblets of pumpkin juice, butterbeer, toast, mashed potatoes, ham, and turkey. They drained their butterbeers and ate a little of everything. Ginny came back just as they were finishing and they all proceeded into the backyard. Ron and Harry were throwing a quaffle around while Ginny and Hermione sat talking down below.  
"She's changed," Harry commented as they sat across from each other on their brooms.  
"Yeah! Isn't she great?" Ron asked excitedly. Harry considered this for a second or two.  
"Just as long as her personality hasn't changed. When are you gonna tell her how you feel Ron?"  
"I, uh, well, um," he stuttered, his ears turning red. "What if, I mean, well, um, what if she doesn't feel the same way, and, um, thinks I'm touched in the head?"  
"Ron she's your best friend. I'll doubt she'll react that way. Come on! I mean she didn't get off you right away when we came back until I said something," he laughed and ducked as Ron, laughing too, threw the quaffle at his head. There was an ear piercing shatter as the quaffle zoomed right through one of Mrs. Weasley's windows.  
"Oh great," Ron muttered under his breath as he heard Mrs. Weasley yelping with surprise. They flew down to the ground and looked at the damage.  
"Ronald Weasley! Get in here right this INSTANT!" Mrs. Weasley was demanding. Ron trudged inside, head hung low. They all hunched under the window sill to hear what was going to happen to Ron.  
"How could you be so clumsy Ronald? And you were throwing it at our guest's head! I hope you understand that you'll be punished for this!"  
"Don't take away my broom please don't Mum!" Ron pleaded. There was a moment's silence.  
"You're lucky I didn't wait until your father got home or it would have been worse."  
"No not really."  
"RONALD! I'M TRYING TO BE FORGIVING ABOUT THIS SINCE HARRY IS OVER!"  
"Yes mum." Ginny, Hermione, and Harry burst into silent laughter. Ron couldn't work his way out of anything! They hushed up and listened for more.  
"As punishment, you won't be spending the night with Harry. Instead you will sleep in Hermione's room." Harry burst out laughing and Hermione shot him a death glare. He couldn't wait to see how this would come out in the morning.  
"Mum, I don't think that's much of a punishment if you ask me," Ron said chuckling.  
"You didn't let me finish. Hermione will be sleeping in Harry's room and after dinner, you will have to stay up in your room, I mean Hermione's and Ginny's, until morning," Mrs. Weasley finished in a matter-of-factly tone. Harry swallowed and Hermione tensed up. Ginny was unaffected.  
"But all I did was break a window Mum! 'S not like you can't just fix it."  
"Oh I know. Reparo," she flicked her wand and the shattered window was no longer.shattered. "But it'll teach you to behave in front of our guests." Ron heaved a sigh and retreated towards the door. They quickly picked themselves up acted as if they hadn't heard a thing.  
"Bet you heard it all," he moped. Harry glanced at Hermione, who glanced at Ginny and they all shook their heads. "Yeah, thought so."  
"It's only one night mate," Harry said, trying to cheer him up. Ron looked up and half-smiled.  
"You get all the fun Harry," he said. Harry laughed at this and Hermione gave a warning sigh. When Ron glanced the other direction and so did Ginny, Harry winked at Hermione. They both laughed together.  
"What?" Ron asked anxiously.  
"Can't wait for tonight," Hermione said teasingly. Ron gave in and flumped down in a chair next to them.  
"Can't believe I have to stay in your room Hermy."  
"Don't call me that!" Harry laughed at the way Hermione cringed when Ron called her "Hermy".  
"Don't look so down now Ronny. You get to go through all their stuff now," Harry smiled slyly as he said this. Ron's face instantly lit up at the thought of this. Hermione blushed, but oddly had no rejection to the fun Ron was going to have after dinner.  
"If you go through my stuff I swear I'll kill you! And if I don't hurt you enough, I'll get mum to finish you off," Ginny warned. Ron's face lost his glow and he made a rude gesture with his hand towards Ginny. Ginny just smiled, unaffected. Smiles, laughter, death threats, jokes, and arguments broke out around the small little circle everyone was sitting in. All of them where talking about if Filch was actually a drag queen when Mr. Weasley grumpily slumped into the house. The conversation was immediately dropped to listen to Mr. Weasley's explanation for being in such a bad mood.  
"THAT SON OF OURS!" He roared. Mrs. Weasley ran to put her arms around him and comfort him, but he sank into his arm chair before she had a chance. She bustled back into the kitchen, fetched him a drink and then sat by his side.  
"Which one?" she asked worryingly. Mr. Weasley took a big swig from his drink and rubbed his forehead.  
"Percy that. and to think he was Head Boy once! Supposed to be loyal, but," Mr. Weasley couldn't find it in him to find the words to explain about Percy. Mrs. Weasley began fidgeting with impatience.  
"Go on dear just say it. Just," she paused, closing her eyes, "Just spit it out."  
"Well you remember when Ron, George, and Fred took the car to go get Harry?"  
"Do I ever," Mrs. Weasley shuddered.  
"Well, some how, Percy found out and threatened to have me fired if I didn't personally grovel to Fudge," Mr. Weasley huffed. "And to think my own son would want me fired. I told him that I wasn't against the ministry anymore, obviously because I worked there. Then he said that anyone who is acquaintances with Dumbledore is against the ministry."  
"But, Dumbledore proved he wasn't attacking them. He turned out to be right about Voldemort all along. Why would they still think that about him Arthur?"  
"To keep the public from being terrified out of their wits, even though Fudge confessed that Dumbledore had been right. If you were to ask me Molly, I'd say we need a new Minister of Magic."  
"Well you'll feel somewhat better after dinner. Come into the kitchen with me," said Mrs. Weasley as she led him off into the kitchen. Harry felt a sudden rage towards Percy, but mostly towards Fudge. Fudge had been giving rights to Professor Umbridge last year to do practically whatever she pleased. Fudge had been accusing him and Dumbledore of being mad and was trying to get Dumbledore fired from being headmaster of Hogwarts. Now Fudge was lying to the public again even though after witnessing Dumbledore come face to face with Lord Voldemort, who fled into hiding once again. Harry felt as if he could have killed Fudge. Ron was looking down upon his shoes, kicking at the dirt.  
"To think I'm related to the little bugger," Ron scowled. No one, not even Hermione dared to tell him to watch his language.  
"I can't believe he'd do this to your dad," Hermione said instead. Ron looked up at her instantly as if about to defend Percy, but once again looked down onto the ground.  
"I definitely feel like I'm imposing on you guys. I'm sorry," Harry apologized.  
"Don't be silly Harry. We're always glad to have you around. Well," Ginny paused looking slightly blushed, "Well at least I am." Harry smiled. Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement. A few moments later, Mrs. Weasley had called them in for dinner. Mr. Weasley seemed to brighten his spirits when Harry walked into the kitchen.  
"Hiya Harry! Good to have you back. How have you been?" He asked in fake amusement.  
"Fine sir thanks. Um, Ewan says hi," Harry responded. Mr. Weasley looked puzzled at this.  
"Ewan?" Mrs. Weasley looked at Mr. Weasley with a hint of surprise.  
"Ewan Renton dear. The psychiatrist!" she said a little hurt. Mr. Weasley pondered this. He still did not comprehend who Ewan Renton was. Then his eyes seemed that they would nearly pop out of his head.  
"Ewan! Ewan fascinated by insane muggles Ewan? That old man?" He was laughing, completely forgetting about Percy and Fudge.  
"Why, he was my 'muggle buddy'. And he was Sirius's 'Dark Arts associate'. He was a little something for everyone. Including the ladies," Mr. Weasley managed to say through fits of laughter.  
"Between James, Sirius," Harry looked away from Mr. Weasley when he said Sirius's name, "and Ewan, it was hard to tell who was more popular. Almost as good a friend to Sirius and James as Remus, but me an' Ewan were mates. But," the smile fell from his face. "Temptation got the worst of him and he became a Death Eater. Lurking in dark, decrepit corners, using his psychiatry techniques to hypnotize and lure the innocent to the dark side where they were tormented crazy. He was a great help to Lord Voldemort, but seeing as he was supposed to capture one of his friends, he quit while anything got too bad." The joy was deflated from the room. Then Mr. Weasley started smiling again.  
"He joined me in the ministry and then went on to psychiatry though. Great man despite some bad choices in the past. How'd you meet him Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked. Once again he felt embarrassment crawl underneath his skin.  
"My uncle made me go see him," he murmured looking down at the floor. "I wasn't acting mad or anything. He just.well, he just wanted me to go." When Mr. Weasley's brow furrowed, Harry told him what he had told the others earlier (skipping the part about Umbridge and her authorization to intercept his letter).  
"Well I'm happy to say I don't think you have anything to worry about. Umbridge was transferred to St. Mungos today. She was having disturbing dreams and at work, she dozed off and was attacked by a.a snake. She's being watched around the clock I assume," Mr. Weasley responded. Harry breathed a relief. She may not be coming to Hogwarts after all. Fred, George, and Ginny walked into the house a few moments after they had all started to eat. There was a very pleasant vibe around the room. No one talked of Harry's dream (not all that much) or of Mr. Weasley's bad day. Mrs. Weasley had of course told Mr. Weasley about Ron and his punishment and pursed her lips very tightly when he laughed about it.  
Dinner went on for about two hours. After about an half hour of Ron trying to persuade everyone to keep eating and talking so he wouldn't have to go upstairs, he finally gave up and said goodnight to everyone. Harry was worn out from his visit to Ewan and pleasantly full from dinner, so he too went up with Ron. Hermione followed, claiming she'd like to get up early for Diagon Alley.  
"I'll just go get my things and change in the bathroom," Harry said to Hermione after they had told Ron goodnight.  
"No it's your room. I'll go change in the bathroom."  
"Can't I just be a gentleman for once? You're a girl you know. You need more time and room to change than I do," Harry smiled. Hermione finally gave in and tossed Harry his night clothes. She closed the door in his face, but "accidentally" left it unlocked. The bathroom had wallpaper peeling from every corner and was dimly lit. There were cobwebs in the sink and the tile had started to yellow. There was rust around the shower head and dust coated the faucet. There was a familiar smell to the room. It smelt musty and old, much like-  
"Number 12 Grimmuald Place," Harry muttered out loud. The room, without a doubt, had a touch of Sirius Black in it. Harry would have been surprised if he opened the cabinet door and a boggart didn't jump out. His chest became heavy with depression and, although his head felt very light inside, it sat like a lead brick on his shoulders. Feeling dizzy, Harry plopped himself down onto the toilet seat cover. "Harry?" A voice asked.  
"Sirius!" Harry said hopefully before realizing that it was Ron.  
"No mate. It's Ron. I need to use the bathroom, are you done in there?" He asked in a hurry. Harry said he would be out in a minute and he ripped on his night clothes. He brushed past Ron, trying to hide that he had been mourning. His mind, once full of happy thoughts and laughter from dinner, was now dwelling on Sirius. He opened the door to his room and heard a loud shriek.  
"HARRY!!! CLOSE THE DOOR!!!" Hermione stood in front of him covering up herself as much as she could. Harry stood at the door in shock, his mouth was slightly open. He shut his eyes tightly and slammed the door shut. A nervous smile spread across his face, which quickly diminished when Ron strode out of the bathroom laughing.  
"Did you walk in on Hermione?" he asked trying to keep a straight face. Harry didn't look Ron in the eye. He was looked at the floor feeling ashamed.  
"I'd thought she'd be done by then. But I should have asked," he said, a slight smiled danced across his lips.  
"Lucky dog!"  
"I'm not lucky. She's probably going to be really upset with me. I.I didn't mean too. I just," he paused, "I just had my mind on other things." They saw Mrs. Weasley start to climb the stairs and Ron darted back into his room. She saw Harry looking distressed outside his bedroom.  
"Everything okay Harry dear?"  
"I accidentally walked in on Hermione while she was changing," he told her, barely able to meet her eyes. To his surprise, she smiled understandingly and walked away. Hermione's voice called from behind the opposite end of the door telling him that he was now allowed to go in now that everyone else had gone up and went to bed.  
"Look Hermione I am SO sorry. I wasn't thinking and-," he was blushing red.  
"Harry..I, well, somehow, I forgive you. I should have locked the door," she said smiling at him. "You're blushing. You look so cute when you're blushing." A look of horror took over her once forgiving expression as she realized what she had just said.  
"I-what?" Harry asked confused.  
"Well now that you've seen me in that state," she put a major emphasis on the word that. "Might as well tell you. Harry I've changed over these past couple of days."  
"Oh r.really? I haven't noticed," he sputtered feeling very uncomfortable.  
"I feel I've changed a lot personally," when Harry didn't speak, she continued, "I don't know if I like Ron so much anymore."  
"You like Ron?" Harry exclaimed.  
"Oh come on now Harry, you knew that," Hermione said in an exhausted tone. "It was positively obvious!"  
"Yeah it sure was," Harry sarcastically said.  
"The way I bicker with him all the time is a pretty big hint. And don't you notice how, oh what's the word, how 'know-it-all-ish' I am around him?" she looked around at Harry and glared at him. He grinned slightly and then looked down at his shoes.  
"No offense Hermione," Harry spoke in a barely audible voice. "But you've always been like that."  
"Not when it was just me and you. When Ron wasn't talking to you after your name had been chosen from the Goblet of Fire, I don't think I was that bossy towards you was I?"  
"Well, no you weren't, but why do you act like that when you're with him?"  
"I just feel sort of obligated to prove myself to him," she told the floor. "Hermione, after all the great things you have discovered to help me through all the catastrophes over the years, I think Ron knows how intelligent you are," Harry chuckled slightly. Hermione's glare turned into a stare of appreciation. Unable to fight it, a flattered smile spread across her face. "Thank you Harry," she mumbled and took a seat next to him on his bed. "But now I feel I've tried too hard and he still doesn't notice me. It kind of hurts to not fancy him all that much anymore, knowing that he likes me too, after I have liked him since our second year, and that's only a bit of how I've changed."  
"What's the other bit then? That's a pretty big part," Harry asked.  
"The other part.I-well you see," she tried to spit out. "The other part is that I like someone else. A lot," she blushed even more.  
"Well, um, who is it?" She looked away from him in disgust. A sudden rage filled his veins. "It's not that scumbag Malfoy is it?"  
"Oh no of course not! Who would want him?" she interrogated.  
"Well then who is-," he was cut of with the force of Hermione's lips being locked onto his. She quickly pulled away blushing. Harry's glasses were all askew. He adjusted them and then returned the kiss. She has changed a lot.but it is a good change. Wait till I tell Ron! At this very thought, Harry jumped off and stumbled to the floor. Both of them were breathless. Hermione stared at him with the beginnings of tears swimming in the corners of her eyes.  
"I don't know what came over me. I'm so ashamed!" Hermione whispered looking down at her feet. Harry cautiously sat down on the bed again. "I'm sorry Harry if that offended you in anyway. I just-I err, I.I," she stammered, trying to find the right words to say.  
"It's okay," Harry interrupted her. He started to pat her on the pack when she whipped around; hair slapping his face.  
"Why'd you pull away?"  
"Oh come on Hermy," he smiled nervously. "You know how Ron feels about you. I'm his best friend. I couldn't just start snogging his loved one."  
"Are you going to tell him?"  
"I don't know yet. I can't just say, 'Hey Ron! Have a good sleep? I didn't get much sleep because I was making out with Hermione in your bed. Well, let's go to Diagon Alley then!' but, I guess this could be our little secret."  
"I wasn't even thinking about him. Oh I feel even worse now," she said on the verge of tears. Harry rolled his eyes and laughed a little to try and cheer her up.  
"Why does everyone cry after I kiss them? It's okay. I won't tell Ron. He doesn't have to know about everything does he?" he asked apologetically. As, yet again, another awkward silence filled the room, Harry felt a little angry towards Ron. "Yeah he doesn't have to know about everything!" Harry shouted to reassure himself. "His fault if he gets upset about what just happened. After all, he hasn't told you how he feels yet. You could pretend not to know how he feels."  
"Oh, but Harry I do know how he feels and he's my best friend. I used to like him more than a friend, but he just doesn't show that he likes me the same. Now I only like him as just a friend, but still-," Hermione finished.  
"So who do you like then?" Harry asked playfully, but Hermione didn't respond. Instead, she got up and sat down on the other bed that was set up in the room.  
"You should have figured it out by now," she said as a small smile was forced onto her face. "Night Harry," and with that she switched off the light and fell asleep. 


	5. Death Eater Alley

5. Death Eater Alley  
  
Harry awoke the next morning to an unpleasant stiffness in his neck. He had fallen asleep with his glasses on and found them broken in two under the sheets. He scooped them up, mumbled "reparo" and hobbled downstairs. Hermione was already up and dressed for Diagon Alley along with everyone else. Ron jumped out from a corner with two tampons in his nose.  
"Hope Hermy didn't bleed all over my sheets last night!" he wailed with laughter. Harry laughed a little bit and sat down next to Ginny, wearing an exhausted look as Hermione chased Ron around the kitchen.  
"Calm down! Calm down! I didn't just go through your stuff! I read Ginny's diary as well," Ron giggled.  
"You WHAT!?" Ginny hollered as she too joined in chasing Ron. Harry watched in amusement and helped himself to a piece of burnt toast.  
"Harry dear, you're not even dressed yet!" Mrs. Weasley had walked into the room. Surprisingly enough, the laughing stopped and in Mrs. Weasley's hand were two tampons. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny soon followed in after her.  
"Um, no ma'am. I just woke up," Harry said.  
"Well go get dressed dear. We'll be leaving in a half hour. Gives you time to shower and fix your hair." Harry's hair was a mess; of course it had always been that way. Taming a wild man-eating tiger would be easier than taming Harry's hair. Harry started climbing the stairs when Ron asked the question.  
"So Harry.tell me about last night. Anything happen?" he asked in a dead serious voice. Harry pondered this frantically for a minute or two.  
"Yeah. Lots," he answered looking at Hermione who looked mortified. Ron's sly look turned into a frown.  
"Oh yeah? What?"  
"Well first I accidentally walked in on her. Then I apologized and then I fell asleep. See, tons of stuff," Harry shrugged. Ron let out a barely audible sigh.  
"I wouldn't steal your girl Ron," Harry added. He stared at Hermione who immediately caught on.  
"What do you mean, 'steal his girl'?" she asked.  
"Nothing. Never you mind," Ron grimaced. As the three of them (Ron, Hermione, and Ginny) left to regroup in the kitchen, Harry marched up stairs and into the shower.  
He came back downstairs after he was ready, his hair looking a little, but not much neater. They were all sitting around the fireplace waiting for him.  
"Finally!" Ron breathed sarcastically.  
"I'm meeting up with Dean again so can I go first?" Ginny asked.  
"Go right ahead. Harry can go after you. That alright Harry?" Ron sounded more like he was begging Harry to go next. Harry looked at Hermione, whose eyes were lit with confusion.  
"Err-of course," he answered.  
"Splendid. We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts. See you there Harry," Ron waved as soon as Ginny disappeared in the mouth of green flames. Harry apprehensively stepped into the fire place. Ash was flying all around him. He grabbed his floo powder and clearly shouted, "Diagon Alley." The last thing he heard was Ron asking Hermione something.  
  
***  
  
"Can I tell you something Hermione?" Ron had asked unsure of himself. Hermione blinked as if trying to understand why he had to ask her permission to tell her something.  
"Sure," she paused. "I guess so." Ron was fidgeting with his hands in a highly nervous manner. He looked all around the room, trying to avoid Hermione's eager eyes.  
"I, uh, I think you're-"  
"I'm what?" Hermione interrupted him. How do I tell her? Ron thought. He looked her up and down a couple of times before speaking again.  
"Um, I think you.I think you should go first," he said disappointed. Hermione bounced up and down on her heels as if waiting for Ron to change his mind and really tell her what he was going to. "Oh. Right.okay," Hermione huffed as she grabbed her floo powder and stepped into the fireplace. "See you there then." With that said, she yelled, "Diagon Alley" and in an instant was swallowed up by the towering green flames. Ron heaved a sigh and sat down in a chair, rubbing his tired eyes.  
"Why couldn't I just tell her?" he shouted at himself.  
"Ron are you okay?" Ron sat bolt up right in his chair. Mrs. Weasley had gone to Diagon Alley before all of them. I thought I was alone. He turned to the backdoor from which the voice came from. It was Percy.  
"What the hell are you doing here you traitor?" Ron spat. Percy held up a hand, indicating that he meant no harm.  
"I just came to see Mum," he answered approaching Ron.  
"You stay away from me! You traitor! You.you give our family a bad name!"  
"Ron I got fired today!" Percy yelled in his face. Ron felt full of unease. Percy searched Ron's face for some sort of sympathy, but was unable to find it.  
"How could you get fired? You were Fudge's little puppet! You did everything!" Ron scowled.  
"They found someone better alright? I need to speak to Mum. Where is she?"  
"Not here. Left for Diagon Alley. Who'd they find?"  
"None of your business," Percy answered reaching for the floo powder and stepping into the fireplace. Ron lunged at him and tackled him to the ground. Percy stumbled to his feet with a bloody nose.  
"What was that for?" he demanded.  
"None of your business," mocked Ron. "Who took your place?"  
"Lucius Malfoy!"  
  
***  
  
"What took you?" Harry asked as Hermione approached him outside Flourish and Blotts. She looked upset.  
"I think Ron was about to tell me how he felt Harry," she said. Harry slowly and most unsure of himself put an arm around her shoulders. She looks distressed, he thought.  
"Are you wearing cologne?" Hermione started laughing. Harry pulled his arm away and stuffed it in his pocket.  
"No no," Hermione snorted. "It smells good. I just can't picture you as Mr. Potter the suave man on campus wearing cologne."  
"Oh and why not?" Harry smiled. But before Hermione could answer, Ron ran up with Percy at his heels. Harry's lip started curling and Hermione's last little chuckles stopped abruptly.  
"Harry! Hermione," Ron panted, "Percy got fired!" Harry gazed up at Percy who was starting to blush.  
"Don't have to sound so excited about it Ron," Percy implied firmly. He turned to Harry.  
"Nice to see you again Harry. How have you been?"  
"Um, okay and you?" he asked as he feebly shook Percy's outstretched hand.  
"Fine thank you. Ah and Hermione, how have you been?" Hermione looked at him with a great expression of caution on her face.  
"You? Fired?" she asked instead. Percy looked taken aback and pursed his lips in a similar way as Aunt Petunia would have. His horn rimmed glasses slid an inch down his nose and he shoved them back up in an irritated manner.  
"They simply thought that there was someone better than me. Though, the ministry can make foolish mistakes especially since they hired Mr. Malfoy in my place," he spat in her face. Hermione took a step back, but trying not to show she was frightened, frowned at him.  
"Malfoy? They can't have him as Fudge's assistant! He's a death eater!" Harry exclaimed.  
"He claims he's not," Ron chimed in. "Percy told me he listed a few names, made up ones of course, and told the ministry that he quit being a death eater ages ago."  
"Well that certainly isn't true! He tried to steal my Prophecy for Voldemort just last year!"  
"Ah, well the ministry sure is gullible," Percy said through gritted teeth. "Lucius told them that he was practicing being an auror to catch dark wizards. Fudge of course believed him since Lucius has a strong connection with the ministry. This year isn't going to be pretty you three. Better watch yourselves. Well I best be off to go see Mum. She won't be too happy to see me, but I've got to talk to her. Take care," and with that Percy strode off through Diagon Alley. Harry ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and sank into a crouch.  
"Can't I just have a normal year at Hogwarts? Just once?" Ron walked over and patted him on the back. Hermione crouched down with him.  
"It's alright Harry," she said. "You just might have to take extra precautions and not do anything stupid." She glared at Ron.  
"Why do you always look at me when you say something like that?"  
Harry picked himself up and wandered into Flourish and Blotts, looking for his school books. Hermione's eyes were lit with ecstasy as she looked at the towering book cases, while Ron's eyes showed no emotion what so ever. They were about to leave when an evil drawl buzzed in between Harry and Ron's ears.  
"Well Weasley. Looks like your perfect brother isn't so perfect anymore," the three of them turned around to stare up at the face of Draco Malfoy who was baring a pride filled sneer. There was nothing new about Draco. He had the same old drawl and the same platinum blonde colored hair. Although, there was some stubble about his chin and he was a little taller.and there was a bruise around his right eye.  
"Nice black eye Malfoy. Father give it to you?" Hermione asked. It seemed that the only reason Malfoy was so horrible to everyone was because he was abused by his father, Lucius. At this remark Malfoy's grin instantly disappeared. His eyes shifted from Hermione to Harry and then back to Ron.  
"Thought your brother working at the ministry would reel in a wee bit more money, but clearly I thought wrong," Malfoy rebounded; eyeing Ron's tattered and patched school robes.  
"Don't you gloat Malfoy," Ron snarled. "We know what your father is."  
"Rich? Well you're not as dumb as you look Weasley."  
"No. He means a Death Eater you git," Harry spat. Harry hated Malfoy with every fiber of his being. The way he treated him, Ron, and Hermione was enough to give Harry the urge to strangle him, but he fought it back.  
"Was a Death Eater Potter," he said, unable to meet Harry's eyes.  
"He still is Malfoy," Hermione grumbled.  
"Shut up Mudblood! Yeah, okay, my father is a Death Eater. That's why they hired him as Fudge's assistant," Malfoy exclaimed sarcastically, but he had chosen the wrong time to say it. A cane came crashing down on his shoulder. Malfoy winced as a hand clenched his neck and slowly turned him around. Dressed in velvet black robes stood Lucius Malfoy. His long silver hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He wore a monotonous expression as the grip around Malfoy's neck tightened.  
"Get.out..side.Draco. I will be having a," he looked down at Malfoy's panic stricken face, "a word with you later. As for you two," he pointed at Hermione and Ron, "go on with your shopping, well, if you can afford it Weasley. I need a word with the Famous Harry Potter. Get outside now!" He spat in Malfoy's face. He let go of his throat and watched Malfoy stagger out of the shop.  
"I never did thank you properly for losing me my servant," Lucius glared at Harry.  
"No thanks are in order Mr. Malfoy, or should I say Death E-," Harry was cut off as Lucius's gloved hand clamped over his mouth.  
"I'll kill you Potter if you say anything like that again. I will kill you," he flashed his wand and strode out the door, taking Malfoy by the wrist and leading him away. Harry stood rooted to the spot. One normal year without any death threats! That's all I want! One normal year!  
Hermione and Ron edged back over to Harry as soon as they saw Lucius leave. No one said anything as they paid for their items and left the store. Harry and Ron left Hermione to withdraw some money from Gringotts while they took a look around the Qudditich shop. Harry eyed the broomsticks with vague interest whereas Ron was drooling over a Nimbus 2001.  
"If only I could get my hands on one of those. Maybe I'd make a better Keeper this year eh Harry?" Ron asked dreamily.  
"You're a great Keeper Ron," Harry remarked. "A player's broomstick doesn't matter all that much." Ron didn't take notice of this comment and kept running his fingers over the smooth black wood of the Nimbus 2001. All of the sudden Hermione burst into the store.  
"Death Eater," she whispered so no one else could hear. The three of them ran out of the store. Hermione led them to a dark alleyway near Knockturn Alley. There in the shadows was a figure dressed in a brown hooded robe. There was a figure crumpled up in a heap down by the Death Eater's feet.  
"How do you know it's not a dementor?" Harry breathed.  
"I heard it talking."  
"I'll go get someone," Ron said and took off down the street, looking for someone big and strong enough to bring this man down. Hermione and Harry hid behind the corner listening and waiting for any sign of a disturbance. They heard a whimper.  
"I, I was only joking around. I didn't mean-" they heard a familiar voice whimper.  
"Shut up!" Spat the Death Eater. "I didn't ask you to speak!" Harry heard a dull thud and then the cry of pain from the crumpled figure.  
"Get up boy! Stand up!" Harry turned his head slowly around the corner and watched the shadowed heap pick itself up from the ground. It was hunched over and holding its sides, though Harry couldn't make out who it was. He saw the Death Eater's hand clench into a fist and saw it strike the figure across the face. The figure once again hit the ground and Harry saw that it was a small adult, maybe even a child. He withdrew his wand, but Hermione pulled his arm away.  
"Harry! Don't!" But Harry couldn't wait. Ron wasn't back yet and if this Death Eater kept kicking the figure, it would be fatal. He sprinted down the alley to where the Death Eater was.  
"STUPEFY!" Harry yelled, but the Death Eater dodged it and spun around. It looked as if a veil was covering the face. The only thing Harry could make out of the Death Eater was its eyes; green and red. "Harry move out o' the way!" Harry turned slightly to see Hagrid's massive figure pounding down the alley. The Death Eater fixed its eyes on Harry's.  
"Always have to be the hero Potter, don't we?" it said and apparated just as Hagrid arrived.  
"You alrigh' Harry?" but Harry didn't answer. He stared down at the unconscious figure. Hagrid pushed past Harry and scooped up the figure in his arms and started carrying him down and back into the light. There they were joined with Ron and Hermione's terrified faces.  
"Harry are you-," Hermione started saying, but stopped abruptly as she saw who the crumpled heap was.  
"Malfoy!" Ron gasped. There in Hagrid's massive hands lay Malfoy. His nose was bleeding and his black eye was even purpler than before. An abnormal lump under his robes indicated that he had broken ribs.  
"Draco! What did you do to him you stupid giant?" Lucius Malfoy came running down the street and grabbed Malfoy's limp body from Hagrid. Lucius's lip curled and his eyes widened when he saw what shape Malfoy was in. He took the hem of his black, velvet robes and wiped the blood from Malfoy's nose.  
"I didn't do nothin' to him Lucius. Somethin' attacked 'im," Hagrid grieved looking down at Malfoy. Harry felt Hermione trembling slightly next to her, but before Harry could comfort her, Ron pulled her into a hug. A tinge of jealousy crept through Harry, but was soon dissolved as his scar started throbbing. He stumbled back slightly and looked up at Lucius who was looking at him intently. Get away from me!  
"You have to take him to St. Mungo's," Harry told Lucius.  
"I know that Potter!" Lucius spat and hurried away with Malfoy in his arms. Harry's scar was only a dull pain now that Lucius left.  
"Yer welcome!" hollered Hagrid irritably after Lucius and then turned to Harry, Ron and Hermione. "So, uh, how have you three been?"  
"Fine," the three of them answered simultaneously.  
"Well, err, good. I, um, I'm meeting Madame Maxime in a little while at the Leaky Cauldron. See you lot at Hogwarts," Hagrid waved as he too left them standing at the foot of the alley. Harry looked back down the alley and his scar seared with pain again. Hermione broke free of Ron's grip and place her arms around Harry.  
"Are you alright?" she asked.  
"Let's leave," Harry murmured. 


	6. Thanks for Nothing

6. Thanks for Nothing  
  
On their way back to the Burrow, Harry made it clear that he did not  
want to talk to Dumbledore about his scar, or anything they had witnessed  
during their visit to Diagon Alley. Hermione had been urging him to see  
Dumbledore, but Harry had screamed NO! and shut her up.  
When they walked in, they saw Mrs. Weasley with Percy at the kitchen  
table. They were discussing something of serious matter so all three  
of them fled upstairs and into Ron's room. "Nope, no blood. Those things plug you up good!" Ron grinned as he checked his sheets where Hermione had slept last night. Hermione rolled her eyes and sat down next to Harry. "Ron, what was it you really wanted to tell me when Harry took floo to Diagon?" she smirked. Ron's ears reddened and he sat down on Harry's right. He was about to answer when they heard a commotion outside Ron's window. A gigantic eagle fluttered up and was pecking at the window. Hedwig hooted at it and Pigwidgeon was flying all around his cage. Ron opened the window and the eagle landed on Harry's leg. Its talons ripped into his flesh. He looked into its eyes and was relieved to see that they were small, black and beady. When Harry had untied the letter, the eagle took flight, cutting Harry's thigh as it did so. He opened the letter.  
  
Thanks Potter.  
  
"That's Malfoy's handwriting," Hermione said taking the letter from Harry. "And that was Malfoy's eagle." Harry laughed as Ron's face was pulled into an upset frown. "Oh and how would you know? Secretly sending letters to Malfoy?" Hermione gave Ron her famous glare and turned back to Harry. "You think his dad made him do it?" she asked. "No way! Mr. Malfoy wouldn't thank me for anything!" Harry gawked. "But neither would Malfoy." He tossed the letter aside and started packing his trunk for the departure tomorrow on the Hogwarts Express.  
"Can't wait to school," Ron sighed.  
"You don't sound too happy about it," Harry said. When no one said anything else, Ron and Hermione started packing as well.  
  
"What the devil are you doing here?" Mr. Weasley yelled when he walked through the door, only to be greeted by Percy's smiling face. He looked at Molly with the first sign of rage Harry had ever seen in his eyes before. "How could you let this into our house again?" he interrogated Mrs. Weasley.  
"Arthur calm down. He got fired and has apologized and everything. It's alright."  
"Percy? Fired? My ass he's fired! He's probably doing some inside job for Fudge. Trying to see if we have anymore flying cars! Which we don't," Mr. Weasley huffed.  
"Dad, no I truly am fired," Percy said barely audibly. "Lucius took my place" Mr. Weasley let down his guard.  
"Well I'm sorry to-wait a tick! They can't hire Lucius! He's a bloody Death Eater!"  
"Fudge doesn't know that, well he doesn't want to believe that so to say," Percy said with a little more pride. Mr. Weasley followed Mrs. Weasley and Percy back into the kitchen where dinner was set. Ginny had gotten home a few minutes after Harry, Ron, and Hermione and was already starting to eat. Fred and George weren't back yet. Dinner was as uneventful as packing their school trunks. Apparently, Ron had missed out on the part where Mrs. Weasley sentenced his punishment to two days, so Hermione was once again in Harry's room.  
"So you think Ron was going to tell you how he felt?" Harry asked, double checking to make sure he had packed everything. Hermione was doing the same.  
"Yeah, he wouldn't look me in the eye when he was talking. What would I say if he did tell me Harry?"  
"I dunno. I'm not good with this type of stuff," Harry said. Hermione laughed a little.  
"Well what would you like to hear?"  
"I'd just like her to say something about liking me back or-Hermione I don't know. I've never told anyone that I fancied them," he grumbled, shutting his trunk and flopping onto his bed. "But I guess if someone told me that they fancied me, I'd just tell them how I felt towards them." Hermione walked over to his bed and sat down.  
"I can't be honest with Ron. He's not as open as you are," she said.  
"I'm not all that open Hermy," Harry chuckled.  
"With me you are." He stayed silent. It was true; he was a bit more open when it was just Hermione and him. "Anyway, I used to like him, and now I'm not sure if I do or not and I-I just couldn't do that to poor Ron." There was a loud snap and Fred and George appeared right in front of them. Hermione flinched and Harry sat up so fast that he felt dizzy.  
"Forgot you can apparate," he mumbled under his breath. The twins were smirking at both of them.  
"Well," George said. "Well, well, well."  
"Looks like 'Mione here is cheatin' on Ron," Fred sneered. Hermione let out a frustrated sigh and sat down on her own bed.  
"Looks like you're getting a pretty good deal Harry," Fred laughed. "She's certainly changed." At this remark, Hermione grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her.  
"Stop it guys. Ron got in trouble for breaking a window and has to sleep in Ginny's room.with Ginny," Harry informed them. Did I just stick up for Hermione? I knew they were just joking around, Harry wondered.  
"Ah well.just as long as Hermione doesn't come out baring a baby."  
"George!" Hermione gasped and struck him with the pillow. The twins walked out of the room chuckling at themselves.  
"So, as I was say-,"  
"Oh shoot! I didn't finish Snape's essay that he assigned this summer," Harry lied, trying to get the subject changed.  
"Well better do it now!" Hermione urged, being unable to resist her love for homework.  
"Nah, I'll just do it on the train. I'm too tired. Let me go get my clothes and I'll go change in the bathroom. Lock the door this time," Harry said as he got up to go get his night clothes.  
"No I'll change in the bathroom this time Harry," Hermione said and before Harry could argue, she ran out the door, clothes dangling from her arm. Harry got changed quickly and when Hermione came back in, she found him sitting on the bed waiting for her to come back in. Harry's eyelids were heavy; he truly was tired, but he had one thing on his mind that he couldn't shake off.  
"Hermione," he said very seriously, "why did you kiss me?" She looked horrified at the question, but her terror was quickly hidden behind a shade of pink.  
"Are you really that, um, clueless Harry?" He became bewildered.  
"Well I don't know exactly what to think. When Cho," he had a very hard time discussing Cho's and his "little" kiss, "when Cho went and kissed me, I thought she liked me, but now she's dating Michael Corner. Your kiss, well, it could have just been one of those, ya know, friendly kisses?" It was more of a question than statement. Though, Harry knew it was more than a friendly kiss.  
"So everything between us is friendly?" Hermione asked as a frown set across her face.  
"Only if you want it to be," Harry finished up quickly. This seemed to redeem himself because Hermione's face relaxed. "It's just, I've known you for so long and I didn't know you liked me the same way."  
"Liked the same-what?" Hermione sputtered, a tint of joy in her voice.  
"Yeah," Harry blushed a little. "I've been meaning to tell you-," but he was cut off by a desperate voice from behind the door.  
"Harry, lemme in!" It was Ron. Harry walked over and opened the door and Ron ran in. He took a seat next to Hermione.  
"Didn't want Mum to hear me. It's so boring in there with Ginny. All she does is sleep," he half exclaimed half whispered. Harry laughed at this comment. Poor Ron, he thought.  
"Ron! Think what will happen to you if you're caught!"  
"He won't get caught," Harry defended him. Hermione's lips pursed slightly.  
"So what have you two been up to?" Ron asked, winking at Harry.  
"You say that so suspiciously," Harry added irritated that someone from the Weasley family always seemed to walk in on Harry and Hermione's private conversations. However, his feeling of irritation disappeared as he thought about all the things he had been hiding from Ron.  
"Oh we have been up to a lot," Hermione whispered into his ear while patting his thigh. Ron squirmed and looked over at Harry who was smiling at Hermione as she flirted with him. But then Hermione pulled away and gently smacked Ron on the back of the head. "Of course we haven't been up to anything! I can't even be trusted by my best friend!"  
"How can I be sure?" Ron asked in a non-sarcastic tone. At this, Hermione walked over to Harry's bed and pulled him into a kiss. It was more passionate than last time, especially because she kept running her hands up and down his back. Harry eventually picked his hands off the bed and put them lightly on Hermione's waist. She pulled away and Harry's face contorted into a look of bewilderment, excitement, and fear. Ron's jaw was dropped and his eyes bulged. Harry's eyes were darting around the room, waiting for Hermione's explanation for her actions.  
"Ron, take a close look at Harry's face. If we had been fooling around, you think he wouldn't have looked so.so-,"  
"Turned on?" Ron mumbled, still talking with his jaw hanging down to the floor.  
"What was that?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.  
"Nothin'," he mumbled back.  
"Anyway, you think he wouldn't have looked so surprised," she finally finished. No, Ron had it right, Harry thought dreamily. What am I thinking? I can't be falling for her. She's Ron's love! Ron's jaw quickly shot back up.  
"Harry, quick, assume Hermy and I have been fooling around behind your back!" They chuckled half-heartedly at this, though Harry still had an uneasy feeling swelling inside him. Then they froze as they saw light flood from under the door and sleepy whispers.  
"Mum heard us!" Ron informed them all. "I gotta go!"  
"'Night Ron," Harry and Hermione said in unison. Ron darted back out the door and into his room just in time. A few seconds later Mrs. Weasley poked her weary head into the room.  
"You two shouldn't be up this late. We're going to have to get up early for King's Cross tomorrow."  
"Sorry Mrs. Weasley. We were just about to say good night," Hermione apologized, but Mrs. Weasley ignored this.  
"Are you alright Harry?" She looked down at him. He was sweating a tad bit. "Err, yeah fine," he said. His answer satisfied her and she closed the door and switched out that light. Hermione was stifling giggles.  
"What are you laughing at?" Harry asked nervously.  
"Nothing Harry," she answered laughing. "'Night" Harry pulled the covers up to his shoulders and shut his sleep eyes. His thoughts kept shifting from Quidditch to the little stunt Hermione had pulled in front of Ron. Smiling to himself, Harry couldn't decide which one he liked better. Stop it! You only like Hermione as a friend! Plus she's Ron's girl remember? These thoughts kept playing over and over in his mind, until he finally drifted into a light sleep.  
  
Morning came faster than Harry thought it had ever had. He woke up before Hermione and triple checked that he had packed absolutely everything. He was tucking his wand into his jeans when Ron walked in. He looked tired and upset.  
"Hiya Harry," he greeted. Harry nodded his head in his direction and then cocked his head towards Hermione.  
"Hey Ron could you wake her for me?"  
"With pleasure," Ron said, his face gaining its usual glow. Ron flumped with all his might down on Hermione's bed. She shot up in alarm. "Morning," Ron shouted flashing a big grin. Hermione groaned as she propped herself up on her elbows. Hedwig hooted happily in her cage as Harry picked her up and walked downstairs to place her by the door.  
"We're not leaving yet Harry. You don't have to drag the trunk down," Ron said.  
"I know. I'm just sort of excited to get back to school." This was true. Ever since Harry's life time ban from Quidditch had been lifted, he was so eager to get to the pitch to just fly around and collect his thoughts.  
"Well you don't seem to be the only one," Ron nodded towards Hermione who was looking through her books to make sure everyone was there. She then hurried out of the room, and then almost as instantly as she dashed away, she ran back in, fully clothed. Harry and Ron watched her bustle around and tidy up her trunk in a caffeinated sort of way. As soon as she was done, the three of them headed down to breakfast. No surprise when Harry came down to a breakfast fit to feed twenty when there was only the four of them (Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley).  
"Where's dad?" Ginny asked.  
"He had an appointment with Mr. Fudge and Percy," she answered, setting glasses of pumpkin juice in front of all them. They ate quickly, especially Harry, and then pulled all their belongings to the car. Ron eyed the car as if he had never seen it. "Percy and your Dad apparated there. He picked up this car from the ministry last night," Mrs. Weasley informed Ron. It was a tight fit. Ron had to sit in the front (since he was the tallest) and Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were all squeezed into the back. Because Harry was so eager and excited about Hogwarts, the ride to King's Cross seemed to be the longest ever.  
"Wonder who our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is going to be," Ron said. Harry chuckled sarcastically.  
"I'd take anyone, even Snape, just as long as it isn't Umbridge again," he said.  
"Who would teach Potions then?" asked Ginny.  
"Doesn't matter to me. Maybe if Snape did get the job, we'd get a better Potions teacher and I could finally start passing that class," Ron said.  
"You haven't been passing?" Mrs. Weasley raised her voice. Harry saw Ron shift nervously in his seat.  
"I meant, err, passing.passing, um-well yes I have been passing, just I meant, passing with a better grade," Ron finally managed to spit out. Mrs. Weasley raised a questioning eyebrow.  
"I hope it's someone like Moody or Lupin," Hermione input. "Well, the real Moody that is. Not that Crouch. He was just awful." Everyone murmured in agreement.  
"Well I hope it's someone who really knows and understands this stuff. Someone who can relate," Ginny said. Harry nodded. He thought back to Ewan and how he knew Dumbledore. The conversation seemed to help pass the time and eventually all five of them reached King's Cross with only a few minutes to spare. One by one, they took their turns casually leaning up against the barrier and slipping through the gate to the Hogwarts Express.  
"Have a good time dears! Oh and be safe!" Mrs. Weasley shouted from the platform up to the train where the four of them where.  
"We will! Thanks for having me stay with you!" Hermione shouted back.  
"Yes, thanks a bunch Mrs. Weasley," Harry yelled.  
"No problem dears!"  
"Bye Mum!" Ron and Ginny shouted at the same time. And with all goodbyes said, the train started its journey to Hogwarts. Lucky for the four of them, they had snagged a compartment to themselves. Ginny left within the first five minutes to go and find Dean, leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione to themselves.  
"I can't wait for our first practice," Harry sighed. "I missed it so much."  
"Yeah and maybe our Beaters will get better," Hermione laughed as Ron said this.  
"What's so funny?" Ron asked before Harry had the chance to, but Harry, amused at the state Hermione had gotten herself into, started laughing also.  
"What!?" Ron cried. The two of them shook their heads.  
"I'm just laughing because she is," Harry answered. Ron stared at Hermione who had thrown her head back and was now cackling, began to laugh a little himself. They were all laughing at each other, holding their sides when the compartment door slid open.  
"I hate interrupting your little giggle fest here, but prefects are wanted up at the front of the train," came a long drawling voice. Harry knew too well that this was the voice of Draco Malfoy. Malfoy had a nice bruise to add to his other one around his eye and was wearing what looked like a corset.  
"I thought only girls wore those Malfoy," Ron smirked. Malfoy grabbed Ron by his robes and threw him up against the compartment door.  
"You try having your ribs broken Weasley. But then again, I wouldn't want you to break your ribs. Seeing that your family is so poor now that your perfect brother got fired, it would take forever to pay off your medical bill," he sneered. Ron raised a fist but a hand caught it.  
"Don't even bother Ron. Anywhere you hit, well, it's already broken by his father," Hermione said, knowing that this struck a nerve with Malfoy. He dropped Ron and turned to Hermione.  
"That Death Eater was not my father understand me? And if you go around telling people that he did this to me, I'll tell my father about your Time Turner," he whispered.  
"How do you know about that?" she asked terrified. Malfoy just smiled and didn't bother to answer her question. He turned to Harry, gave him one look, and then turned back to Ron and Hermione.  
"Let's go," he said and walked out of the room without waiting for them.  
"See you in a bit," said Ron. Hermione just sort of smiled at him and then they were gone. Great. Another train ride without Ron and- his thought was interrupted by a face that poked in from behind the door.  
"I have to talk to you later Potter," Malfoy said and then slammed the sliding door shut. Harry was shocked. What could Malfoy possibly want to talk to him about? He didn't give it much thought and stared out the window watching the countryside blur past him. The door opened once again.  
"Good you're alone," said a very shaky female voice. Harry recognized this voice instantly and spun around.  
"Oh.hi," he greeted unenthusiastically. "Well come on in." Cho Chang took a seat across from Harry. She was unable to meet his eyes.  
"I'm sorry," she started, staring at her feet.  
"About what?" he asked before realizing how stupid he must have just now sounded.  
"About your godfather. Loony told me."  
"It's Luna," Harry said defensively. "But thanks," he added quickly. Cho gave him a suspicious look and little tear drops started forming in the corners of her eyes. Harry took a deep breath in annoyance and then told her, "Don't start crying. I'm not crying so you shouldn't be."  
"I know," her voice shook. "I just feel bad. I know how you feel." The tears had started coming.  
"Why is it every time you're with me you start crying?" She looked up at him surprised.  
"Y.you just remind me so much of Cedric. I mean.y.you came out carrying his b..b..body," she choked out through tears. Harry started chewing his lower lip agitated.  
"Cho, I don't really want to talk about Cedric right now okay? So if that's what you came here to talk about then, well," he took a minute to consider what he was about to say. He really wanted things to work about between them, but he also had the strong desire for her to leave. He didn't finish his sentence and instead fell silent. Cho was now wiping her eyes on her the hem of her sleeve.  
"I just wanted to also apologize, again, for Marietta. She shouldn't have snitched on us," she sounded like she truly meant it.  
"Yeah." was all he could force out.  
"And I also came in here," her freshly dried eyes filled with tears again, "to tell you that it's my last year here and I want to leave here on good terms with you." Harry was relieved to hear these words. She's not crying! He thought happily. He smiled at her.  
"Okay sure," he agreed. Cho rose from her seat, give Harry a little kiss on the cheek and then left. He leaned his back against the window and spread out on the compartment seat. His relieved, happy feeling only lasted a few minutes. It ended abruptly when Malfoy made his way over to Harry's compartment. He knocked this time.  
"What?"  
"Need to talk Potter. Don't get your knickers in a bunch," Malfoy snarled, hating the fact that he couldn't just barge in like he normally did.  
"Well come in then," Harry gestured reluctantly. Malfoy let himself in being careful not to bang the brace around his ribs on any corners. He was looking down, eyes barely visible behind those brutal bruises.  
"Thanks," Malfoy muttered.  
"What was that?" Harry asked slyly.  
"I said 'thanks' Potter," Malfoy replied now looking at Harry angrily. "Thank you for helping me away from that Death Eater."  
"You mean your dad?"  
"Damn it Potter! Can't you just say 'you're welcome' instead of accusing my father of every bad thing that happens to me?"  
"Yeah well now you know what it's like to have your parents bad- mouthed!" Harry shouted furiously into Malfoy's face. "Just wait to you feel how badly it hurts when someone talks bad about your friends! Wait, I forgot, you don't have any." Malfoy's jaw was slightly open. His bruised eyes narrowed in a disgusted manner. Then he broke out in his famous sneer.  
"You think smart remarks like that are going to get to me?" he spat.  
"Ones about your father certainly do," Harry sneered back. Malfoy looked like he had just been slapped in the face with a leather glove. Harry fought hard to keep a straight face. Just then, Malfoy's fist lunged at Harry's nose. Harry stumbled back; blood was dripping into his hands. He raised a fist and punched Malfoy in the brace. Malfoy crumpled to the floor howling in pain. He was clutching his chest trying to take in big breaths of air, but the brace was constricting him. Harry saw furious flames flicker in Malfoy's pupils and before he knew it, Harry crashed to the ground. Apparently, Malfoy had kicked Harry in the knee. Harry tried to stand up, but his knee gave a heavy protest and wouldn't let him. Malfoy got to his knees and jumped on top of Harry, punching him. Harry finally threw Malfoy off him, fought against his protesting knee, and grabbed him by the throat. His fist sat behind his ear, ready to strike.  
"Harry what's going on?" Hermione shrieked as she entered.  
"Cool a fight!" Ron shouted. At this, kids started flocking to the source of the comment. Hermione gave Ron a I-strongly-disapproved-of-what- you-just-said look and made him shoe the eager faces away.  
"What's going on?" she asked impatiently. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but just then Malfoy's foot made contact with Harry's lower midriff. He sank to the floor, quivering in pain.  
"My father was not that Death Eater! Understand me?" Malfoy hissed, clutching his side. "Understand ME!?" Harry groaned. Ron pushed past Malfoy to try and help Harry up, but Malfoy pushed him right back.  
"You hit below the belt Malfoy! I didn't think you could go much lower!" Ron snarled.  
"This is between me and Potter and that's not as low as living like you do Weasley," Malfoy huffed. Hermione had to hold Ron back.  
"I didn't have to thank you, and still I did," Malfoy stared down at Harry. "And I'm still going to say thanks even after what you said about my father." Harry had stopped shaking and was breathing more easily. "So thanks Potter. Thanks for ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!" Malfoy roared. He spat blood onto Harry's shoes and left the compartment in shallow breaths. 


	7. Lucius's Visit

7. Lucius's Visit  
  
Ron and Hermione rushed to Harry's side. They both took an arm and hoisted him onto the seat. He winced as they plucked him back down again. As soon as he muttered through gritted teeth that he would be fine, Ron and Hermione both jumped him with questions. Harry had told them all about Malfoy's visit, but skipped the details on Cho's.  
"He slugged you? Just like that?" Ron asked trying to hide the fact that he sounded really interested by trying to sound disgusted.  
"Yep. Square on the nose," Harry had told him. Ron shook his head sorrowfully.  
"Are you sure you're alright? That looked like it really hurt," Hermione kept asking.  
"Yes Hermione. I'm fine, really. Thanks," Harry kept replying. "So," he started, trying to change the subject, "how's being a prefect?" When Harry asked this, Ron's eyes lit up like Christmas lights.  
"I just had a brilliant idea!" Hermione looked intently discouraged at what Ron was about to suggest.  
"I'll give Malfoy detention for starting a fight!" Ron exclaimed. Harry's spirits lifted at the thought of Malfoy getting detention by Ron.  
"Yeah! And since you two were the only witnesses, he can't argue against it!" Harry joined in. Hermione still looked unsure.  
"Oh come on! It's not lying, breaking rules, being dishonest, or anything else that you seem to be the only one that cares about," Ron said.  
  
"I guess you're right. If it punishes Malfoy for all that he has gotten away with, why not?" Hermione smiled menacingly and off the two of them were to go and get Malfoy. Harry was once again by himself. How he wished to tell Sirius about the fight he had just had and the Death Eater he had encountered. There was a knock at the door.  
"Come in." Professor McGonagall was standing before him. Harry thought that if her lips were pursed and tighter, her teeth would pop through.  
"Well Mr. Potter. I thought the life-time ban for fighting Mr. Malfoy last year would have set you straight. Seems as though even I can be proven wrong. Detention for both you and Mr. Malfoy, we'll discuss this later since we have arrived," Professor McGonagall snarled. She spun on her heel and fled from sight. Hermione and Ron walked in after her, their faces expressing that Malfoy had beat them to telling Professor McGonagall. They saw Malfoy limp down the hall shortly after Ron and Hermione had walked in. The train pulled to a slow stop inside Hogsmeade station and Harry quickly as he could changed into his school robes. Ron had to take both his and Harry's trunk and Hermione carried her trunk and Hedwig's cage because Harry could barely walk.  
The thestral-pulled carriages stood waiting for 2nd years and up. The trio snagged a carriage to themselves and began their trip up to Hogwarts Castle. The leathery animals' muscles flexed under their tightly pulled skin. The ride was a quiet one; Harry was mesmerized by the thestrals and Ron looked it too, even though he couldn't see them.  
"Harry you never finished your essay!" Hermione suddenly exclaimed. Ron looked like he was going to be sick.  
"We had an essay?"  
"Yeah for Snape," Harry told him. "And I finished it when you two were doing prefect duty," he lied. Harry's poorly written essay was tucked away in his trunk. Soon enough they had reached the castle and made their way into the Great Hall. Harry did his best to walk normally, but Malfoy had a good kick. He spotted Malfoy making his way over to the Slytherin table. Harry was glad to see that he was walking a bit awkward and didn't seem to be bragging about his fight. Harry and Malfoy made split eye contact, but broke it when Dumbledore stood up.  
"Welcome back my wonderful pupils. I hope you all had a splendid holiday," as Dumbledore said this, a line of trembling, wide eyed looking first years entered. Professor McGonagall shot past them carrying a three legged stool and the unmistakable Sorting Hat. The Sorting Hat sang its song and starting sorting people. This year, Harry didn't listen to what the Sorting Hat had to sort and instead was scanning the table for the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.  
"No sign of Umbridge," Ron whispered to Harry. Just then, his eyes fell upon a tall man wearing a grey, tweed bucket hat. His face was completely hidden from the shadow his hat cast. The man sat next to Snape who was wearing the worst scowl Harry had ever seen. It looked that if someone accidentally bumped into Snape in the hall ways, he'd kill them. Harry wasn't too worried about this. For he knew that Snape had always wanted to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and now had to endure another year of disappointment. Professor McGonagall had finished the last of the students (a short, brunette named Laurali Zims who was placed in Ravenclaw) and mounds of food had appeared on the table.  
"Tuck in!" Dumbledore had said. Hermione had given up on S.P.E.W for the moment and was now filling her plate graciously. Harry and Ron dove into their plates, stuffing their faces. Harry looked up to take a swig from his flagon of pumpkin juice and noticed that the man in the bucket hat was gone. Snape was wearing a more relaxed scowl and had begun to tediously cut his food.  
"Forgive me," Dumbledore spoke, "for interrupting your feast, but I almost forgot to introduce you to your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Harry froze in terror. The only new member to the staff table, the man in the tweed bucket hat, wasn't there. That could only mean one thing.Snape. "Well, temporarily new that is. Your real teacher was injured right before school started so you will be having a substitute until she is fully recovered. I shall warn you, your substitute loves to make eccentric entrances and that is why he is not here at the moment." Harry breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't Snape after all, but Dumbledore said that their permanent teacher was a she.  
"It can't be Umbridge," Harry said aloud without realizing it. Dumbledore peered over his half-moon spectacles at Harry and gave him a small smile.  
"You may now carry on," he said and sat back down.  
"For a thecond there I thought it wath going to be Thnape!" Ron managed to say through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.  
"Me too. I really hope it's not Umbridge. Then I probably won't be able to play Quidditch," Harry said.  
"You guys worry too much," Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron swallowed hard.  
"We worry too much?" he asked pointing to Harry and himself. "You should talk."  
"I have gotten better. Somewhat better," she added looking slightly abashed.  
"Yeah she has Ron," Harry agreed. Hermione shot him a small smile. Ron just shrugged and continued eating.  
After dinner the three of them (and all the other students) headed back up to their common rooms. Hermione kept an eye on the first years while Ron told everyone the password. The common room was easy on the eyes for Harry. It was illuminated by candles and fireplaces and consisted of a number of comfortable couches that could make an insomniac sleep.  
"Home," Harry muttered under his breath. Hermione had settled herself down on a couch and began reading intensely while Ron and Harry started playing a game of wizard's chess.  
"I really should tell her," Ron said as he watched his bishop crush Harry's knight. Harry just nodded and watched in despair as he grew closer to a check mate. "I can't stand it much longer, but it's so hard to tell her face to face."  
"Why don't you just write it in a letter to her?"  
"I'm not a good writer," Ron said. "Mind your king Harry." Harry moved his king over one space to the left, but it was quickly demolished by Ron's rook.  
"Good game," he shook Ron's outstretched hand before settling himself back in his chair. "But Ron, you don't have to write her a piece of poetry. Just tell her what you want to tell her."  
"But I feel so much she might think it's a joke."  
"Trelawny believed our essays."  
"Yeah, but it was always because I ended up dead or brutally stabbed in a dark, damp alley way left to die," Ron mumbled as he looked over at Hermione and then looked away. Harry felt the first cold stab of jealousy pierce his heart. I can't like Hermione! I can't like her! She's just a friend, plus Ron.Harry couldn't find it in himself to finish his thought.  
"Think of it this way," Harry began. "You've hesitated all this time to tell her and any feeling that she might have had for you could be gone any day. If you want her to have any remote feelings for you, I'd get a move on." Before Ron had a chance to reply, Hermione strode over.  
"Finish your book already?" Ron asked. Hermione nodded.  
"So who won?"  
"Ron did.again," Harry answered.  
"You know, it seems so peaceful here without Fred and George," Hermione said.  
"What do you have against my brothers?"  
"Nothing. I was going to say that I don't like it too peaceful. It gives the common room a tense feeling."  
"Since when do you don't like it too peaceful?" Ron and Hermione argued for the next half hour about peacefulness. In the end, Hermione threw up her arms in disgust and said she was going to bed.  
"That's why you have to tell her," Harry laughed. The both of them climbed the stairs to the boy's dormitories and got ready for bed. After they had made sure all their belongings where in the room, and had said goodnight to each other, Harry lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. His curtains were pulled all around the bed giving anyone who would want to speak to him the illusion that he was already asleep. This could not be farther from the truth, for Harry could barely sleep that night. He thought about helping Ron out with writing his love letter to Hermione. Harry would do anything for Ron and the Weasleys; they were always so nice and generous towards him. However, the fact of Ron and Hermione dating wasn't agreeing with him all that well, but he wasn't sure why. Ron and Hermione were his best friends in the world and he loved to make them happy, but that feeling of loneliness and not having anyone was too much to handle. He could always ask Cho out, but what if she wanted him to be with her every minute of the day? Plus it was her last year at Hogwarts and he didn't want a distant relationship. Harry's troubled thoughts and feelings finally eased and he fell into a deep sleep.  
The next morning felt as if he had only gotten two hours of sleep. Harry's eyes were heavy and drowsy; one lesson in Professor Trelawny's over- perfumed room would send him to sleep. The only thing keeping Harry awake was the excitement about the substitute for the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and it figured he had it last.  
"I hope it's someone young and handsome and full of wits, but nothing like Lockhart," Hermione kept saying. She told both of them over that she was not anxious, but she was not hiding it well.  
The day dragged on and finally it was time for their first Dark Arts lesson of the year. When all the students had arrived outside the door, it opened right as the bell rang. Harry took his usual seat next to Ron and waited for the worst. From the balcony of which Lockhart had wandered down in their second year, appeared a man dressed in top hat and tails. He slid down the hand rail and landed on top of the desk. The top hat flew off his head and revealed hair that spilt over on either side of his face and blue- green eyes. Everything but the hair seemed familiar to Harry. The man burst out in song.  
"I was meant for teaching you students, you were meant to listen to me!" Hermione jumped up from her seat and burst out in song also.  
"The only way of teaching us baby, is if you have a degree!"  
"Just one try. Give me just one try."  
"There's no way because you're not here to stay!"  
"In the name of Hogwarts! One lesson in the name of Hogwarts!"  
"You crazy fool. What could we learn from you?"  
"Don't," the man said sternly and made Hermione jump, "talk to me that way. I will deduct points if I must. Miss Granger, don't talk to me that way."  
"S.sorry professor," Hermione stammered. The man broke out in a warm smile. Harry could feel the warmth of this smile. It was like putting on a heated jumper in the middle of a snow storm. The smile reminded him of Sirius's.  
"Awe Miss Granger. That was some good improving on your part. Obviously someone here knows her muggle movies," the man said. Hermione straightened up in her chair blushing. "For those who are afraid to indulge themselves in some of the muggles' entertainment items that little song Miss Granger and I sang was a parody off the Elephant Love Medley in Moulin Rouge. That is why I am dressed in this suit." With a flick of his wand, the spilling over hair along with the suit and top hat disappeared. In its place stood a man in scarlet and black robes with spikey brown hair. He reached inside his pocket and pulled out a pair of glasses. Harry's jaw dropped.  
"I am your substitute Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. My name is Ewan Renton, but I would appreciate it mightily if you called me Professor Renton." Harry saw Ron's jaw do the same, only he doubted for the same reason his did. Harry's jaw dropped because Ewan was a former Death Eater. He thought that Ron's probably dropped because he was friends with his dad. Harry saw Hermione look over towards Harry. He could see that she was thinking along the same lines as him.  
"Professor Renton," Ron raised his hand.  
"Yes Mister, uh lets see, Weasley? Weasley! Ronald Weasley?"  
"Er.yes sir. I'm Ron Weasley," Ron tried to keep a straight face. "Who's our real Dark Arts teacher?" Ewan shook his head. The light that cut through the stained glass danced on top of his spiked hair, making it many different colors.  
"Not sure. Professor Dumbledore asked me to teach for a while via owl. 'Fraid you'll have to ask him," he flashed his warm smile. "How are your mum and dad doing?" Malfoy starting chuckling half-heartedly across the room.  
"Did I say something funny Draco?" This shut Malfoy up. "'Fraid your father wouldn't be too pleased if I told him that you were disrupting my class."  
"You don't know my father!" Malfoy accused.  
"Oh yes I do," Ewan said. He looked directly into Harry's emerald green eyes as he said this. "I know a lot more people than you think." Harry let out a nervous smile. Ewan asked once again how Ron's parents where.  
"Fine Professor," Ron answered indignantly.  
"Splendid. Now, I feel you have the right to know why Dumbledore allowed me to take this job," Ewan announced. Harry scooted in closer. "I was asked to take up the Dark Arts job because," he turned his focus on Malfoy, "I too was part of the Dark Arts." Malfoy sunk a little lower into his seat.  
"What do you mean 'you too'? Who else are you referring to?" Malfoy demanded, straightening himself up a little bit.  
"You know who I mean so I suggest you stop playing innocent because you're drawing attention to who you are defending Mr. Malfoy," Ewan spat through clenched teeth. Harry stuffed his knuckles into his mouth to keep from laughing.  
"'Merlin's Beard!' you think to yourselves. 'How could Dumbledore hire an ex Death Eater?' Because Dumbledore is a trusting and forgiving man! I quit months before Lord Voldemort did what he did." Most of the class (including Ron) flinched at the sound of his name. "Better get used to his name laddies because you're going to be hearing it a lot," Ewan added. The air in the room became tense; no one dared to move. Harry could see that Hermione's fists were clenched.  
"Why did you quit?" Malfoy asked cautiously. "Couldn't handle it?"  
"Funny Malfoy. Yes, I could not handle it. Voldemort was killing ones I cared about. I had joined his so-called army because I was very insecure at the time. Those who are still with him are still insecure. They think that if they leave there will be nothing left for them. Death Eaters, after staying with Voldemort for quite some time, have troubling seeing past choices that benefit them. If anything gets in their way or Voldemort's way to power, they'll stop who ever it is even if it is the Death Eater's own son," with that, the warmth of Ewan's smile, was underestimated by his icy penetrating stare. Luckily for Harry, he was only fixed on Malfoy, who had seemed to get the point. "I found that very disturbing so I quit. I decided to use my skills in Dark Arts to try and get revenge on Voldemort, so I started working in the ministry. I worked in the Department of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts and became fascinated by muggles. I wanted to learn more about what makes them who they are, so I took up the profession of psychiatry. I used to do wizard and muggle therapy, but stopped after an arrogant wizard came to see me. It was one of Voldemort's Death Eaters. Apparently he had just had a son and said he wasn't ready to raise a boy because he was busy benefiting from Voldemort. Voldemort was my past, so I just gave therapy to muggles. But it hurt me so much that a Death Eater, a father, was too busy killing to raise a son. How arrogant could you get?" Ewan's eyes were boring into Malfoy. Malfoy was staring up into Ewan's eyes, trembling just the slightest bit. A smile of satisfaction spread over Harry's lips. "And you're smiling Mr. Potter because why?" Ewan rounded on him. Harry sat up in surprise.  
"I, um, I'm not sure sir," he mumbled.  
"Right, well, think before you act Mr. Potter. Always think or else you'll end up regretting."  
"Yessir," Harry slurred nervously. Ewan smiled briefly and then turned to his black board. The rest of the class went on in silence as they copied down notes of how to defend yourself if you are wandless. To all of their relief, the bell rang. Harry had just set his foot out the door when Ewan called him back. Ron and Hermione followed instinctively.  
"Alone please Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley," Ewan demanded. Ron and Hermione gave Harry one last glance then disappeared from the classroom dungeon.  
"Sir, honestly I don't know why I was smi-," Harry started, but Ewan held up a hand to silence him.  
"Don't worry about it Harry. I just wanted to apologize for attacking you like that in class. I don't want to favor anyone, so I had to snap at you, or else it would seem like I was 'ganging up on' Mr. Malfoy," he said sternly. There was a brief silence.  
"Professor, do you know if Malfoy's father is a Death Eater?" Harry asked. Ewan opened his mouth as if about to say something, but shut it and shook his head vigorously.  
"I'm sorry Harry, but I don't. I have reason to believe, yes. But I don't know for sure. Well you better be heading to the Great Hall," he replied.  
"Oh.oh yeah. Bye," Harry mumbled as he set out the door to go find Ron and Hermione. He found them in the Great Hall, filling their plates full of dinner.  
"So," Ron started. "What did he want?"  
"To apologize," Harry answered starting to fill his plate. Hermione raised a questioning eye brow.  
"For what? He didn't do anything wrong," she asked.  
"He said for attacking me like that."  
"Oh yeah, wonder why he did that," Ron shrugged and took a long sip from his pumpkin juice.  
"Told me he didn't want to gang up on anyone, but he was certainly beating up Malfoy," at this, Ron spit his juice out, narrowly missing Hermione. He started cracking up.  
"That was wicked to live through! I could barely contain myself!"  
"Yes it was quite amusing," Hermione said, her lip curling as she looked at her now juicy mashed potatoes. "It was almost like Snape is to you Harry."  
"Almost? He got it dead on!" Just then, an enormous eagle came screeching in. Harry recognized it as Malfoy's eagle. It landed at the Slytherin table and waltzed over to Malfoy. Malfoy ripped the letter from his leg. Harry watched as his eyes sped over the words. When he was finished he glanced at Harry and then at Ewan. To his horror, a malicious grin spread over Malfoy's lips. He smirked at Harry and then let Crabbe and Goyle read it. Then they too started smiling. Ron and Hermione seemed to notice this too and exchanged nervous glances with each other.  
"Let's go," Harry beckoned and the three of them got up and left. The common room was completely empty when they arrived.  
"What do you think that letter was about?" Harry asked when they took up a table to themselves.  
"Whatever it was, Professor Renton is probably going to get sacked," Ron said. "You saw the way he looked up at him when he was done reading. Damn, I liked the guy."  
"Well don't look too much on the bright side," Hermione said sarcastically. "Maybe it was just a letter giving permission for Malfoy to talk back to any teacher who mentions Death Eaters."  
"Yeah, like that was really it. It probably said 'Draco-don't worry, I'll get that new Dark Arts teacher sacked and I'll get Umbridge back because I'm a filthy Death Eater who doesn't love you, but I want to make myself look superior.' Superior.yeah right! He's just a coward!"  
"'Fraid I'll have to take points away from you for saying that Weasley," an unknown voice said. They looked in the direction it came from and out stepped Malfoy from a painting of Godric Gryffindor hanging next to the fireplace.  
"What are you doing in here? Get out!" Harry hissed. Malfoy (whose rib brace was gone) strode in front of Harry and pushed him down onto the couch gently.  
"Tut, tut Potter," Malfoy smirked. He puffed out his chest and on it was a gold badge. "That's right. Head Boy of Hogwarts! Seems I was a better prefect then you Weasley, but then again, I've always been better."  
"Why.are.you.here?" Ron spat through a locked jaw. Malfoy shoved a manila envelope into his face.  
"'Tis for the Mudblood," he grinned and left through the portrait. Hermione snatched the envelope from Ron's shaking hands. She tore it open and pulled out a letter. Her eyes filled with tears.  
"If that letter is from Malfoy and that's why you're crying," Harry began, but Hermione shook her head and dumped the envelope onto the table. A gilded crest of Hogwarts cluttered on the wood. Written across the crest was Hermione Granger: Head Girl of Hogwarts.  
"I'm sorry Hermione," Ron said. Instantly, the tears in her eyes disappeared.  
"Sorry?"  
"Now you're stuck with Malfoy!"  
"Oh Ron! Grow up!" she exclaimed and flounced away into the Girl's Dormitory. Harry mentally rolled his eyes and let out a little snarl.  
"Ron! You're even more clueless about girls than I am!" Harry shook his head. Ron looked puzzled.  
"Sorry it's just-I thought that was the reason she was crying," he said apologetically.  
"No Ron, no. She was crying because she was happy! Ever heard of tears of joy?" Harry asked feeling bad for Hermione. Ron nodded his head yes. "Well, now would be the best time more than ever to write Hermy that letter mate." Ron's eyes widened.  
"I.I can't Harry! She'll never believe it coming from me! You write it! You can write more romantically than me!"  
"Me? What? Ron I-" but he stopped and considered this. I could tell her how I really feel without her knowing. Wait, I don't even like her! Then why did she kiss me that night? Was it out of confusion or does she like me? Could I possibly like her too-?  
"Harry please?" Ron pleaded, breaking his thoughts.  
"Er, okay I guess I could write it," Harry answered reluctantly.  
"Tonight?" Ron requested, life jumping back into his eyes. "Harry please tonight! She'll be upset with me all tomorrow if I don't give it to her in the morning!"  
"Fine. I guess so, but you have to learn to deal with her on your own next time."  
"Right! Night Harry!" Ron said darting for the dormitories.  
"Wait Ron! I don't know how you feel! I don't know what to write!"  
"Just write how you would feel if you've fancied her as much as I do!" And with that, he heard the door click shut. Harry withdrew a piece of parchment, a quill, and an ink bottle from his bag. The parchment looked extra long in the pale moonlight. Half an hour had passed and the common room was filled with all the Gryffindors. Although it wasn't as noisy as it had always been with Fred and George, Harry couldn't concentrate. He played a game of Exploding Snap with Neville and had a light conversation with Ginny. When most of the common room started emptying out, he finished up his essay that Professor Binn had assigned them earlier that day. No ideas sprang to mind how to write a love letter and confessing all Ron really felt.  
The clock now read twelve midnight. Harry was the only one not asleep. A blank piece of parchment stared up at him. Might want to start by addressing her dummy! He thought. Harry scribbled out: "Dear, Hermione" and then threw his head down onto the table. The dying fire in the fire place crackled peacefully in his ears.  
"What was I thinking? I write just as well as Ron!" Harry mouthed furiously at himself. He decided to go for a walk and popped into his dormitory and grabbed his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map. He threw the cloak off so as not to confuse the Fat Lady and then spun around the corner and threw it on just in time as Filch came striding past.  
"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," Harry muttered. The map appeared in front of his eyes. Peeves was in the Owlry and it looked like Filch was heading up there too. Harry made his way down the marble staircase and out onto Hogwart's grounds. He made it to the lake and brought his knees up to his chest. Something rustled behind him. He withdrew his wand. A shadowed figure loomed over him; luckily Harry still had the cloak wrapped tight around him. The thing looked right at him and then started moving towards the castle. Harry looked down at the map and saw a miniscule dot labeled Lucius Malfoy move in through the gigantic oak doors. He stood up and started sprinting after Lucius. Before entering the castle, Harry stopped to catch his breath and look down to see where Lucius had gone to. He was in Ewan's room. Unable to stifle his curiosity, Harry cautiously walked inside and made his way to the Dark Arts class room.  
"Get out of my classroom!" Harry heard Ewan bark when he reached the Dark Arts room.  
"No Renton! You listen to me," Lucius said coolly. There was a crashing sound and the noise of papers and miscellaneous items being scattered all over the floor. "You mind your tongue!"  
"I didn't say anything about you and what-" there was a muffled silence. It appeared Lucius had covered Ewan's mouth with his hand.  
"You will not say anything more about what you know! And stop meddling with my son." Harry heard Ewan gasping for air.  
"I was not meddling with him!"  
"Is that so? I heard different," Lucius sniggered. There was a moment's silence, and then Harry heard Lucius speak again. "Put your wand away Renton." He heard another struggle.  
"You get out of my classroom!" Ewan demanded.  
"Or else what? You'd lose your job if you attacked me Renton," Lucius retorted.  
"I used to be one Malfoy! I'm still just as dangerous!"  
"Really? Could I quote you on that? I'm sure the Prophet and the parents of children who are in your class would love to hear that."  
"And I'm sure they would love to hear how Fudge's new assistant is a Death Eater!" Ewan yelled back. Harry heard someone's fist make contact with someone's skull.  
"I'll kill you. We've gotten stronger over the years in case you have not noticed. I'll kill you," Lucius hissed. "I will kill you Renton."  
"Then go ahead! The ministry will get you and all your filthy followers!" Ewan shouted. Harry tensed up as he heard Lucius withdraw something.  
"I am the ministry. That clueless pratt Fudge could not survive without me."  
"Get out of my classroom you arrogant DEATH EATER!" Ewan yelled at the top his lungs. Harry swallowed hard and saw as Snape's dot on the map made his way from his office to where the commotion was going on.  
"You have a lot to learn Renton," Lucius said calmly. "Lesson number one: this is the death of the Dark Arts teacher, but the birth of the Dark Arts' darkness. Lesson two: Voldemort will rein and not even Potter can stop him this time. Lesson three: I warned you to mind your tongue. Never take advantage of my warnings."  
"DEATH EATER!" Ewan yelled. The sound of Snape's footsteps increased.  
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Lucius screamed; piercing the night air. Harry saw a glow of green light dash out from under the door. Snape stopped right in front of Harry breathing hard. When the light had disappeared he burst into the room with his wand out. Harry looked down at the map once more. Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Filch all came running towards the Dark Arts classroom. Harry peeked around the open door. He saw a body lying lifeless on the floor. Lucius had broken the window and now stood in front of it.  
"Don't say anything Severus or I'll kill you too," Lucius commanded and then jumped out the window. Snape staggered out of the classroom. The dead body reflected in his cold, beady eyes. Professor McGonagall was the first to reach them.  
"Severus what," she stopped as she saw Ewan's dead body on the floor. Dumbledore soon followed after with Filch at his heels.  
"I almost had Peeves," Harry heard Filch mutter under his breath.  
"Professor I didn't.I'd never.please," was all Snape managed to spit out. Harry had a constricted feeling about his chest, yet another person he had seen, rather heard, die. The look in Dumbledore's eyes killed Harry even more. Dumbledore walked over to Ewan's lifeless body and checked his pulse. Professor McGonagall stared intently at Dumbledore. He mournfully shook his head.  
"Severus, I cannot believe my eyes. I trusted you," Dumbledore whispered.  
"Professor, sir, I did not kill Renton! Listen please!" Snape pleaded.  
"We all knew how much you wanted the job as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but never would I think you would kill for it," Professor McGonagall said in a hushed voice. Filch's jaw was dropped open speechlessly.  
"If you didn't kill him Severus, who did? No one can apparate in and out of Hogwarts. How could the killer escape?" Dumbledore questioned. Snape's lip kept curling in different positions.  
"The window! Look at the window!" Snape shouted pleadingly.  
"He does have a point Albus," Professor McGonagall sighed.  
"Sim.simply broken from the.the blast of the c.c.curse Professor," Filch managed to mumble. Harry moved over into the doorway so he could get a better view. Snape's fist was clenching and unclenching as Filch revealed this to Professor Dumbledore.  
"Professor Dumbledore, you've got to believe me! I would never kill anyone. I mean, you trusted Lupin!"  
"Remus Lupin was never a Death Eater Severus," Dumbledore said quietly. For the first time ever, Harry saw the faintest hint of tears starting to mist over in Snape's eyes. He couldn't take it. Just the previous year, Harry had witnessed his father harassing Snape for no good reason. He had also seen a bit into his childhood, where Snape sat cowering in a corner while his parents fought. As awful as he was to Harry, he felt he had to stick up for him. An innocent man, even Snape, didn't deserve to go to Azkaban. Of all people, Harry knew this because Sirius had been innocent. He slowly took off the cloak, and disclosed himself to everyone.  
"Potter!" Snape snapped, the fire returning to his eyes. "Go to your common room!" Harry disregarded this.  
"Professor Dumbledore sir," he said shakily, "Snape's telling the truth." Dumbledore's cold glare softened up, Filch's jaw drew closer to his mouth, and Professor McGonagall's pursed lips relaxed.  
"Oh really? Go on," Dumbledore said quietly.  
"I couldn't sleep so I went for a walk and heard Professor Renton and," he paused. Should I say who? He decided to wait until one of them asked. "And someone arguing. I would have continued on walking, but there was a death threat."  
"So why didn't you go and get someone Potter?" Professor McGonagall spat.  
"Because I didn't know how serious it was. Their voices where down pretty low until-" Snape cut him off.  
"Until Renton yelled Death Eater. That's when I came running. I reached the door and the culprit had already said the curse. I walked in and saw," Snape stopped too. Dumbledore cleared his throat.  
"Do tell."  
"Well he told me he'd kill me if I said anything sir."  
"Lucius Malfoy," Harry but in. They all turned to face him. Harry could have sworn he saw Snape wince. Harry's insides churned in discomfort for defending Snape. Professor Dumbledore looked at Harry, his stare, like Ewan's, penetrating his soul. He heaved a sigh.  
"As much as I'd like to believe you Severus," Dumbledore began. Snape was grinding his jaw so harshly that Harry could hear his yellow teeth scrape one another.  
"Professor," Snape started in a barely audible voice.  
"Let him finish Severus."  
"Thank you Minerva," Dumbledore smiled. "I'd like to believe you Severus, but an Unforgivable was used. We'll have to resort to Veritaserum." Snape took this like a blow to the head, for he stumbled backwards clutching his temples.  
"Professor Dumbledore please.there are things I really do not want other ears to witness," he said shakily. "Can't we use a pensive instead?"  
"I wish we could Severus, but you can alter your thoughts. How could we be completely sure that what you are thinking is true?" Dumbledore replied mournfully. Snape searched to room for another explanation to back his story. Harry could not defend Snape in this sense. There was nothing he could do to help someone out of punishment for using an Unforgivable Curse.  
"Why not give Veritaserum to Potter! See if he's telling the truth?" All the sympathy he had ever once felt for Snape disappeared as he suggested this.  
"What?" Harry asked incredulously. "What did you say? I stood up for you! I defended you! Even though I hate everything about you, and as much as you probably deserve it, I just saved you from going to Azkaban!" Harry grew even angrier when none of the other Professors jumped in to convince Snape of how noble Harry had acted. Snape's stern face twisted into a gnarled smile.  
"Clearly, if you have nothing to hide, you wouldn't have reacted this way Potter," Snape said. Harry shook his head in disbelief.  
"I can't believe you! No I don't have anything to hide, but like you even said, some things are private!"  
"The Veritaserum will be used on you Severus, no exception. Harry you may leave now," Dumbledore added in an irritated tone. Harry nodded and placed the invisibility cloak in the crook of his arm. "However," Dumbledore began again, "you will need to be present at this event to give us your story and we'll see if it matches Professor Snape's.just to make sure." Harry nodded.  
"That will take the place of your detention Potter," Professor McGonagall added. Harry cast one final glance around the room. One final glance at Ewan's limp body and he was gone. On his way back to the common room, Harry asked himself how writing a letter could have seemed so hard compared to enduring that fiasco. 


	8. All that Troubles a Tortured, Vulnerable...

8. All that Troubles a Tortured, Vulnerable Mind  
  
Harry trudged back into the common room. His spirits could not be any lower. His heart had sunk into the pit of his stomach and his hands felt clammy. He had promised Ron that he would get the letter to Hermione in the morning, but instead of writing any more, he shoved the piece of parchment into his bag and flopped down onto the couch.  
"Ron will understand why," he reassured himself. The once alive and roaring fire was dead. Just like Ewan, Harry thought. He ran his fingers through his hair and then cupped his hands over his face. A more sickening thought coursed through his body; who the next Dark Arts teacher will be. All of the sudden, someone walked into the common room, thought not through the portrait hole. It was from the same picture that Malfoy had entered; only it wasn't Malfoy.  
"Hermione? What are you still doing up? And where did you come from?" Hermione was in a night gown and she looked exhausted. She yawned and then frowned at Harry.  
"Funny, I was just about to ask you the same. I'm still up because I heard someone enter the common room and I came from the Head Girl's bedroom," her glare turned into a look of concern when she saw how distressed Harry looked. "You alright Harry?" He missed Sirius more than ever.  
"Ewan.is," he began. The flashback to his last year and the feeling of denial, wanting to wake up and pretend it hadn't happened came back to him. But, only knowing Ewan for a brief time, Harry felt improper to wallow in depression. "He's dead." Hermione dropped her lighted wand. Her jaw fell upon and the color drained from her tired face. She started shaking her head. Then she stood still and closed her eyes.  
"You're joking. Please tell me you're joking," her eyes remained shut. Harry took off his glasses and placed them on the table by the couch. He started massaging his eyes.  
"No Hermione. I'm not joking."  
"Oh Harry, but how?" She took a seat next to Harry as he sat up taking a big, long, deep breath.  
"That letter Malfoy got must have said something about Mr. Malfoy taking care of Ewan," Hermione gasped. Harry continued, "I took a walk because I couldn't think-I mean sleep- and saw him go to Professor Renton's office. Renton called him a Death Eater and he killed him." Harry saw Hermione's hand shaking just the tiniest bit. He wanted to hold it so badly, but something held him back. Once he felt she had absorbed most of this information, he went on about Snape and the Veritaserum trial.  
"And they want me to go to see if my story matches up with Snape's. Meaning, I get to find out a lot of stuff I'm not sure I want to know," Harry finished with an exasperated sigh. Hermione didn't reply for a while. Instead she quickly kissed Harry on the cheek and hurried back to the Head Girl's bedroom. Harry touched the place where Hermione had just kissed him. It was still warm. He laid back down on the couch and drifted into an uneasy sleep. He didn't dream that much that night. His mind kept replaying images from his late night stroll. Harry still felt a tad bit guilty that he had not written Ron's letter and especially now that Hermione had kissed him again. His troubled thoughts slowly decreased by the hour and Harry finally settled into a deep sleep, only to be awakened by Ron's smiling face.  
"So did you write it?" he asked anxiously the next morning on the way to the Great Hall. Harry fixed his blurry eyes upon Ron's anxious ones.  
"I see Hermione hasn't told you yet," he muttered mournfully. Ron looked confused.  
"I haven't even seen her at all this morning. Why? What did she need to tell me?" Ron started sounding nervous. Harry glanced longingly at the Dark Arts door as they passed it. He saw Malfoy up ahead alone and had the strongest urge to tackle him. Harry quickened his pace so that he was right behind Malfoy. Ron had to jog to keep up, but stopped when Harry pushed past Malfoy.  
"I hate you. I really strongly hate you," Harry spat in his face. "I should send you a thank you letter. Saying thanks for making my life a living hell." Malfoy didn't react the way Harry thought. He was looking down at his shoes the whole time. The bruise around his eye seemed lighter. Harry heard him mumble something.  
"What?" he asked curiously.  
"For goodness sakes Potter this is serious. I don't need your stupid little 'repeat it again' jokes," Malfoy spoke to the ground. He rubbed the back of his neck and started to walk past Harry.  
"No seriously, I didn't hear you," Harry said forcing him back. Malfoy looked up, but still did not meet Harry's eyes.  
"I said I'm not responsible for my father's actions. Are you satisfied? Can I go because I really need to talk to someone?" He pushed past Harry and, to his surprise, didn't say any crude remarks to Ron.  
"What was that all about?" Ron asked.  
"Ron," Harry began. He looked over at the Dark Arts door before continuing, "Ewan's dead. Malfoy's father killed him last night. I saw it, well heard it all last night when I couldn't think of things to write in your letter." Ron opened his mouth, but Harry, knowing the question answered for him. "No I didn't write your letter." Ron too looked over at the Dark Arts door.  
"I really liked the guy," he mumbled. Harry nodded in a comprehending way.  
"Come on; let's go to the Great Hall." The two of them spotted Hermione stabbing her eggs with her fork. The staff table was quite empty. Only Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, Professor Trelawney and Hagrid sat there. By the looks on their faces, it was apparent that they had received the news about Ewan. Even the atmosphere seemed tense and quiet.  
"Hi," Ron greeted Hermione. She merely looked up at him, smiled slightly, and then continued stabbing her eggs. Harry and Ron exchanged glances and then sat down. Ron laid his head down in his arms and didn't even bother to eat any breakfast. He let out a very deep sigh.  
"So you've heard have you?" Hermione asked him quietly. Ron nodded into his arms and then blindly reached out for a goblet of dandelion juice.  
"You know," Ron said after he had a sip of his drink, "they never do seem to last long do they? I just wonder who our substitute is going to be now."  
"We may not have a substitute."  
"Of course we'll have a substitute! That's probably the most important class! We can't skip it!" he exclaimed.  
"What I was going to say," Hermione growled, "was that we may not have a substitute because our full time teacher could have recovered by now." Ron rolled his eyes and did a poor imitation of Hermione. She crossed her arms and glared dangerously.  
"Oh come on now. This is not the time to be-" but Harry was cut off by someone's finger being jabbed painfully into his back.  
"Ow! What?" he asked angrily. Harry turned around to see Luna Lovegood's smiling face. She was fiddling with something in her hand. "Oh," he mumbled. "Hi Luna."  
"Sorry, can't stay and chat," she said dreamily.  
"Good," Ron muttered under his breath. Luna's protruding eyes narrowed in Ron's direction. Ron smiled awkwardly and then shrugged at Hermione. She turned back to Harry.  
"I have to go. Here!" she shoved what she was fiddling into Harry's chest and then hurried away. He saw that it was a piece of parchment and without bothering to look at it, shoved it in his pocket.  
"Well?" Hermione asked.  
"Well what? I'm not in the mood to read whatever she has written to me. What's our first lesson today?" Both Ron and Hermione put down their forks and shuffled through their book bags. Hermione, being so over obsessed with keeping things organized, was the first one to pull out their schedule.  
"Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins no less, but wait.it says we don't have Dark Arts today," she answered.  
"Kinda hard to find a replacement on the spot. Stupid Malfoy," Ron growled. The three of them hurried up to finish their breakfasts and then headed on down to Hagrid's hut. The morning was grey and still. There was still the faintest bit of dew on the grass and a humid touch to the air. Gryffindors and Slytherins shuffled down to Hagrid's Hut all wearing grim faces. Instead of the usual chatter that broke out among the students, today it was silent whispers. Only being there for a day, it seemed that Ewan had definitely left his mark at Hogwarts.  
"Mornin' 'Arry," Hagrid welcomed them gloomily. "Ron. Hermione."  
"Hello Hagrid," the all said together.  
"'Spose you've already heard," Hagrid said looking at his feet. The three of them all nodded. "No one else knows yet, but I 'spect they've all heard, depending on the look on all their faces. Dumbledore asked me ter tell you three not to say anythin'."  
"Dumbledore's here?" Harry asked very surprised.  
"O' course. Dumbledore wouldn't leave at a time like this," Hagrid told him importantly.  
"Then where was he at breakfast?" Hermione asked sounded worried.  
"Had some business to handle with Professor Snape. Better sit down now, class is about ter start." Everyone took a seat in the damp grass. The hurried whispers and grim murmurs died down when Hagrid stood up. Harry could barely concentrate. He didn't know if it was the fact that Hagrid had them breeding flobberworms again or that he couldn't help wondering what Dumbledore was up too that kept his mind off Care of Magical Creatures. As Hagrid explained how to feed a flobberworm, Harry pulled at the grass recalling the night's events. His anger towards Malfoy grew intensely.  
". . .Come up here and demonstrate," Hagrid said looking directly at Harry. The faces turned to him. Hermione and Ron both nudged him a little when he did not move.  
"I'm sorry what.what was that?" Before Hagrid could answer a screech owl streaked past his head and dropped a letter at his feet.  
"Jus' a second," Hagrid grunted into his beard as he torn open the letter. "Oh! Er.Harry, ya need to go to Professor Snape's office now." As best as Hagrid tried to hide it, there was the faintest flicker of distraught in his beetle black eyes. Harry stood up and looked at Ron's questioning face to Hermione's, which with kaleidoscopic swiftness, changed from nervous, to understanding, to slightly excited, and finally set to troubled. He waved goodbye and started towards the castle.  
It was bizarre seeing the castle hallway's so deserted. Normally, the halls were filled with chattering, gossiping, students and seemed like a claustrophobic's nightmare. Now that no one was walking in them, Harry realized how spacious they were. When he knocked on Snape's dungeon door, it opened almost instantly and a hand pulled him inside. Snape was strapped into a chair and was surrounded by Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore, Cornelius Fudge, and to Harry's horror, Professor Umbridge. His jaw dropped at the sight of her. When Professor Umbridge saw him, her toad like face contorted into a tortured smile and for a second, Harry thought her eyes flickered red and green.  
"Hello Harry," Dumbledore smiled wearily. Harry had not forgiven him enough since last year to say hello. Instead he just nodded his head in Dumbledore's direction. Dumbledore indicated a chair for Harry to sit in and he shuffled over and plopped himself down. "Now that you're here, we can give Professor Snape the Veritaserum while you tell Miss Dolores Umbridge what happened." Harry forced a reluctant smile as Umbridge strode towards him. Her leg was heavily bandaged.  
"Potter."  
"Umbridge."  
"Let's make this quick okay? Just tell me your story and you can go," she grumbled. "Now what happened?" Harry drew a long breath and began to tell what happened.  
"I had to finish a love-an essay, but couldn't think of anything to write so I went for a walk."  
"After hours when you were supposed to be in bed?" Her smile grew larger as she jotted that down on her piece of parchment. Harry ignored her. He didn't care what she wrote; he just wanted to get this over with.  
"I went out to the lake and saw Lucius Malfoy run up to the castle in a hurry so I-"  
"You stuck your nose into other adult's business when you really ought to be finishing your essay? Tut tut Potter," she interrupted him. Harry fidgeted in his seat. He was not about to let Umbridge have the satisfaction of making him the antagonist as she had tried to do when she gave him detention.  
"I followed him into the castle and saw him enter Doctor Renton's office. From there-"  
"Doctor?" she cut him off once again. Oh no.what have I just done?  
"I meant Professor," he said quickly. "I saw Lucius Malfoy enter Professor Renton's office and-" he froze as Umbridge's smile grew so large it might pop right off her face.  
"Only one of 'Doctor' Renton's patients would know he's a doctor. Could this mean that you had been seeing Doctor Renton? Meaning that you could have imagined Lucius Malfoy killing Professor Renton? Meaning that you truly do have a precarious mind? If you had needed professional help, and I say it was about time," she laughed and then continued, "Could this possibly mean that you were having visions?"  
"I wasn't having visions! I saw it!" Harry shouted.  
"Prove it Potter!" She started scribbling away madly on her piece of parchment.  
"Lucius Malfoy is a Death Eater! He killed Professor Renton because Professor Renton kept calling him one!" Umbridge's scratching stopped.  
"Lucius Malfoy is not a Death Eater! He is Cornelius Fudge's personal assistant and runner up for the next Minister of Magic after Mr. Fudge!" They heard a bottle break. Snape started thrashing in his chair. His eyes rolled back into his head and drool started spraying out from his mouth. Then as suddenly as it had happened, he stopped. Snape's eyes rolled back into place, only they had a misted over appearance to them. In a monotonous voice he began to speak.  
"My real name is not Severus Snape. If you were to switch the letters around, it would spell Perseus Evans. I am Lily Evan's and Petunia Dursley's older brother. I hated my childhood. Before my two younger sisters were born, my parents fought quite often. When my mother was gone, my father used to beat me for being so 'abnormal.' I thought I was the only one who hated their father. Who despised everything their family stood for, but I had thought wrong. I later found it easy to confide in Tom Marvolo Riddle because he too hated his family.  
"I became a Death Eater because I hated being a mudblood. I changed my name to Severus Snape so that no one would ever know I was from a mudblood background. I was never popular in school and constantly being abused by James Potter, and Sirius Black. I hated them. I wanted to kill them. I wanted to murder everybody who had laughed and made jokes about me, but most of all, I wanted to kill my father. I wanted him dead because he had certainly beaten the life out of me. I hated how every time my mother went out to 'run an errand' my father kicked me, bruised me, neglected me, and abused me. Run an errand. Run an errand? Sure my mother was running errands. Ha. I laugh at that. It is such a pathetic excuse for being passive aggressive! How could she not see how badly I had been hurt? I soon grew to despise her strongly. After my father, she was the second person I killed."  
"How could he just kill his parents without remorse?" Harry heard Fudge whisper. Dumbledore held his finger up to his lips indicating for Fudge to be quiet. He then urged Snape to go on. Snape's head lolled on his neck before continuing.  
"I convinced Peter Thomas Pettigrew to join Voldemort's clan. I noticed how pitiful and puny he was. He was also the silent type. I knew that the silent ones always crack first. I corrupted him. I made it look like James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin were not his friends and that they kept him company out of pure sympathy," a smile flickered on his face. "I remember that night. I remember how Pettigrew's eyes filled with tears, how he asked me incredulously how I knew, how the first gleam of evil shown in his eyes.  
"Then I remember the news I had received later that week," Snape's smile was replaced by a thin line of lip. "Lily was pregnant. It was then when I realized what I had gotten myself into. Peter had hated James, Sirius, and Remus since that day forward.he was going to get revenge. Fortunately Sirius had been Lily and James's secret keeper long enough for Harry Potter to be born. I stopped supporting Voldemort when I found out Lily, my sister, was pregnant. I hated her, but she had never abused me like my parents had. I couldn't let her die. James. . .yes, but not Lily. I already had made the fatal mistake of convincing Pettigrew to join, I couldn't make another one. I sought out after Professor Dumbledore for help. He of course knew that I was, and still am, Potter's uncle. That's why he trusts me so much with him. To make sure Potter would have a safe future, he gave me the job of Potions master so I could keep an eye on him. Though, I still don't understand why Professor Dumbledore didn't send Potter to live with me. I always thought that it was because I had been a Death Eater. He has never told me." Snape's head rolled again on his neck. For a split second his eyes looked in different directions and then settled back into their regular spots. Snape inhaled and was about to begin when Dumbledore cut him off.  
"Tell us Severus what happened on the night of Professor Renton's death," he ordered softly. Snape's nostrils flared and he began to talk in the same monotonous voice.  
"I had just finished grading my essays that I had assigned over the summer. None, of which, got high marks, except of course, Miss Hermione Granger's. I heard someone enter in through the front doors, but didn't put much thought into it because I must admit; I only thought it was Rubeus Hagrid. I began to clean up work space and put the last of the cauldrons away when I hear shouting and yelling. I would have dismissed this, but the words being shouted were 'Death Eater.' I grabbed my wand and tried to find the room which this commotion was coming from. The shouting had stopped briefly and then was louder than ever. I heard it the loudest in the hall were the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes were being held at. I approached the door cautiously, but before I could stop the culprit, the ultimate Unforgivable Curse had been used. I walked in; saw Professor Renton dead and Lucius Malfoy standing in the frame of the window. He told me that if I told anyone, he would have my life too." All this information Harry never knew about Snape had practically knocked the wind out of him. His mouth was very dry and his tongue seemed glued to the roof of his mouth. Harry stared into Snape's emotionless eyes with a strange feeling inside him. He didn't know if this feeling was far behind hate, or a sort of sorrow for Snape's earlier years which had been a living hell. Once Harry had pried his eyes away from Snape's, he cast a glance around the room. Dumbledore was writing something on his parchment, Professor McGonagall's eyes were filled with a frantic fear, Cornelius Fudge was shaking his head, and Umbridge's smile was no longer.  
"Thank you Severus. Well m' ladies and gentlemen, this proves that Professor Snape did not kill Ewan Renton. It was, in fact, Lucius Malfoy," Dumbledore announced to the silent room.  
"It.it couldn't be Lucius. I've.I've.well he's been my assistant all this time. I need Weasley back. Oh my! What have I done?" Fudge panicked.  
"There there Cornelius," Dumbledore comforted. "We'll have Lucius in Azkaban before anything can happen." Fudge was shaking his head more frantically. Dumbledore turned to Harry.  
"Thank you Harry for cooperating."  
"Welcome," he replied sourly as this fresh information was still sinking in.  
"You may have the rest of the day off. This all must be hard to relive, and plus." Dumbledore trailed off. Harry just nodded and was about to leave when Dumbledore cleared his throat to catch his attention.  
"You cannot let anything you just heard get out to anyone else, even if they are your closest pals." Harry knew he was talking about Ron and Hermione. Once again Harry nodded and left, that unknown feeling still licking his insides. 


	9. Lettre de L'amour

9. Lettre de L'amour  
  
When Harry had reached the common room, he took his bag and threw it across the room. He was even angrier with Dumbledore for making him witness the trial. Harry never realized, nor even cared, how tortured Snape really was. No wonder he was so horrible with him. But one thing kept replaying in Harry's mind; the fact that Snape was his uncle.  
"It can't be true," he said to himself. "It can't be!" But deep down Harry knew it was true. They had used Veritaserum after all. He paced back and forth and ran his fingers through his already messy hair. He had to vent. He felt the need to purge all the information he had just received to someone. But there was no one. He couldn't tell Ron and Hermione, and as badly as he wanted to, he couldn't tell Sirius. Harry felt the strongest desire that he had felt since Sirius had died, to talk to him. Sirius was the only one he could really talk to about his parent's death and what happened when they were still around. Harry kneeled down in front of the couch and began to punch the cushions with all his might. He wanted to hurt something. Hurt somebody so badly that maybe they could recognize the slightest amount of the pain he was feeling. Harry never realized how much he felt as Snape had at moments like this.  
The common room was clogging his thoughts. He felt suffocated and decided to go down to Hagrid's hut to catch the last bit of the lesson. By the time Harry had arrived, all the kids were heading back up towards the castle to their next class. He didn't feel like explaining the reason why he had to leave to anyone who came across his path, so he made his way to the Forbidden Forest.  
"Yer not supposed ter go in there." Hagrid had obviously spotted Harry on his way to the forest. Harry stuffed his hands into his robe's pockets to hide his clenched fists.  
"I wasn't going to go in. The centaurs would probably kill me," Harry mumbled as he slowly turned around to meet Hagrid's eyes. "Plus Grawp is still in there," he said under his breath as Hagrid chuckled to himself.  
"Shouldn't yeh be gettin' to yer next class?"  
"They excused me for the rest of the day," Harry replied mournfully. As good as a friend Hagrid was, and as strong as the urge he had to spill his guts, Harry didn't feel like talking to Hagrid anymore.  
"Fer what? What did you have ter do up in Professor Snape's office anyway?" The name Snape echoed in his mind. "Yer essay couldn't have been that bad now."  
"It wasn't about my essay. Profess-," he paused. Harry wasn't resilient from his anger towards Dumbledore to address him properly. "Dumbledore said I was supposed to discuss it with anyone. You better go Hagrid. Kids from your next class are beginning to arrive."  
"Oh! Oh. . .yeah. . . yeah right. See you 'Arry!" As Hagrid walked over to his hut, Harry unclenched his fists. In his right pocket, his finger brushed up against a crumpled piece of parchment. He unfolded it and read the note. It was the letter from Luna.  
  
-Harry,  
I know how you  
miss Sirius and I know how to talk to him.  
If you would fancy a visit to  
the Department of Mysteries in order to talk  
To Sirius, please write me back as I will be unable to be notified between  
classes.  
  
Yours Truly,  
LuN@ LoVeG00d  
  
She writes oddly, but oh well, he thought as his spirits lifted. Talk to Sirius. Oh my, I get to talk to Sirius! He was practically jumping up and down as this thought occurred to him. Suddenly, Snape was taken off his mind, the weather seemed very comfortable and relaxing, and he felt remorseful about being so harsh with Hagrid. Harry scanned the grounds for Luna and then scribbled on the back of the parchment that he would love to talk to Sirius. It hit him then. Unless they were a ghost, how could you talk to the dead? He paused in his writing and felt the familiar storm cloud of depression move up his throat.  
"Hell, what do I have to lose?" he asked himself and then placed the letter back in his pocket to mail to Luna later. Luna's letter reminded Harry of the one he should have written for Ron. "I guess I could do it now," he informed himself reluctantly. He plodded back up to the Gryffindor common room and took a seat near the window. A breeze ruffled through his hair and kissed his cheeks. This'll be easy, he thought as a smirk spread over his face. He pulled out the piece of parchment that he had used the night before and began to think of what to write next.  
"My Dearest Hermione," he spoke aloud. "For years I have been far too insecure with myself to show my feelings for you. But now I have matured hence the purpose of this letter," Harry stopped and started laughing. "As if she'd believe this was from Ron. Okay, let's see. what else?" he paused to write down what he had just said and began to speak again. "Er, um, too long have I let my heart suffer from your cruelty of not even noticing me more than just a friend. Do I have words to describe my love? Nay I say. Oh Hermione, if only I could find those words to describe this-this-this passionate love I have towards you; why, they'd be the most beautiful and poetic words. I love you Hermione. I love you!" By now tears were swelling in his eyes from laughter. He slapped his hands on the desk and laughed so hard that the tears spilled over his cheeks. He wiped them away, his laughing simmering down to a chuckle and tucked the piece of parchment away in his robes.  
"Imagine," he giggled to himself, "imagine Ron writing something like that. I gotta keep that! That was brilliant!" Harry took out blank piece of parchment and began to write how a normal 16 year old teenage boy would write to a girl. He found that writing this confession letter to Hermione came easily to him. After the first few sentences, Harry had forgotten that this letter was from Ron and let his emotions flow freely onto the paper. He had lost track of time and had finished off his fourth page (and final sentence) of the letter when the first person entered the common room all day. Harry quickly stuffed the letter into his book bag when he saw the person emerge from behind one of the chairs.  
"So what happened?"  
"Er, uh, h-hi Hermione," Harry greeted pushing his bag under the table with his foot. "Where's Ron?"  
"That Bell girl told him of a last minute Quidditch meet but-"  
"Quidditch? Really? This early? Well I must be heading down there then"  
"Just a minute!" Hermione yelled as Harry sprinted towards the portrait hole. Harry stopped hesitantly. "Your ban hasn't been lifted yet. You know that! Now what are you trying to hide from me Mr. Potter?" Harry could feel her interrogating eyes on the back of his neck. He turned around and smiled nervously.  
"Nothing," he whined playfully.  
"Then what were you working on when I came in? I heard you writing something!" she demanded. Harry stopped smiling and instead rubbed the back of his neck.  
"Just some private things that I needed to do in order to, um, in order to-er help me deal with all of Snape's private information." Hermione raised a questioning eye brow and then relaxed. She took a seat on the couch and beckoned for Harry to sit next to her. He obliged.  
"So how did it go?" she asked truthfully interested instead of feigning interest as she did when Ron and Harry talked about Quidditch.  
"It was hard to tell you the truth. Umbridge was there," he answered.  
"That reminds me," Hermione said. "You'll never believe who are new Dark Arts teacher is." Harry felt his stomach churn.  
"I, uh, thought we didn't have Dark Arts lessons today," Harry told her, hoping that this was some kind of twisted joke.  
"Oh we didn't. The professors announced it to us during class."  
"But how do they know?" Harry shouted furiously. Hermione shrugged and started shaking her head.  
"Dumbledore must have told them. I really miss Ewan. Even though he only taught us one lesson, that whole singing ensemble was intriguing." Harry felt his hands clam up. He started wiping them on his pants to get the moist feeling away. Now that Umbridge was back, he wouldn't be able to play Quidditch. He felt his head become heavy and hot.  
"So it," he closed his eyes, waiting for Hermione to tell him that she was only kidding. "It really is Umbridge then?" She nodded yes. "This year is going to be a disaster."  
"Oh come on now Harry! She might have changed a slight bit! Dumbledore obviously wouldn't have hired her back if he thought that she was going to be as nasty as last year!" Hermione said in her defense. Harry jumped up at her remark.  
"Yeah, well, Dumbledore is a clueless git sometimes! All the terrible things that have happened to Hogwarts over the years might have been avoided if he hadn't failed to tell me my Prophecy in my first year here!" he fired back.  
"Your what? What are you talking about? I-I don't understand," Hermione whimpered. Harry ran his fingers through his hair once again in frustration. He paced back and forth, grumbling to himself. "Harry?"  
"I have to murder or be murdered," he spat.  
"Oh my-what?"  
"That sphere the Death Eaters wanted last year, it's my Prophecy. When Voldemort killed my parents and then tried to kill me, well, he marked me as his equal. It said that 'One can't live while the other survives.' I have to kill him, or he kills me. He wanted it because when my Prophecy was told, one of his spies only heard part of it; he needed to hear all of it. It comes down to this," he took a deep breath trying to remember what it had said exactly and sat down. "One of us has to die at the hand of the other. And personally, my odds aren't looking very good." Hermione wore a sullen expression. Her eyes darted around the room. She drew in a shaky breath.  
"You can't die Harry. I mean, you've fought him these past five years, but-"  
"But every year it has become much more difficult. He's almost recovered all his power I assume. He became human two years ago. I saw it happen."  
"No, what I mean is your wand. It has the tail feather from the same phoenix that gave another feather, and only one more, to Voldemort's wand. How can one die at the hand of the other?" Harry sat in shock. She's absolutely right, he thought. Ron burst into the room.  
"I am so bloody sore," he groaned as he rubbed his right shoulder. "Be right down. I have to put my broom away." Harry and Hermione watched him as he hobbled up the stairs letting out an occasional "ow." Harry spoke up as soon as Ron was out of sight.  
"Listen, I want to tell Ron another time. Not right now, I don't feel like talking about it anymore okay?" Harry told her urgently. Hermione nodded. "I have to give Ron something so I'll be right down too." He grabbed his book bag and climbed the stairs. Ron was sitting on the bed, putting his broom away in its case. He turned around rubbing his shoulder, wincing.  
"How is it out there?" Harry asked enviously (but hiding it all the same). Ron shrugged.  
"Nice I guess. Kinda the same as it was last year," he replied dully. Harry cleared his throat. "Oh yeah. . .sorry," Ron chuckled. "You'll never believe who our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is!" Ron exclaimed.  
"I know."  
"Yeah," there was a moment's silence. Harry glanced out the window at the Pitch. It glistened temptingly in the sun. He saw the hoops and the stands; a sense of loss overcame him.  
"I wrote your letter," Harry said finally. Ron stopped rubbing his shoulder. His eyes lit up.  
"Really?"  
"Sure did. All it needs is you signature," he smiled as he showed Ron the letter. Ron sat on the bed, reading the four pages.  
"This is really well written Harry," Ron told him in a serious tone. "Really well written. I just hope she believes it was me. I mean, you said everything I feel. How'd you know what to write?"  
"I, erm, well, it, uh, it you know, just came to me," he stammered afraid that Ron might get the wrong idea. "Here's a quill. Sign it, and give it to her tonight, when nobody else is around alright?" Ron's smile could not have been any bigger as it spread across his freckled face. He jotted down his name, shook Harry's hand, and then the two of them preceded back into the common room, which was now full of Gryffindors. Hermione was holding a conversation with Parvati so Harry and Ron sat off to the side by the fireplace.  
"You really think she'll like it Harry? What if she thinks it is a joke?" Ron asked nervously. Harry smiled at his discomfort.  
"You know how Hermione is. She'll believe it. Calm down alright?"  
"Alright," Ron breathed.  
"So," Harry started as he tried to change the subject, "how's the team doing?" Ron enthusiastically filled him in on all that had happened today during practice. He told him about how one of their beaters had accidentally hit Ginny, mistaking her head for a bludger. He told him how he had blocked a shot and how Angelina had cursed at him because it was her shot. He told Harry about the new trick he could do on his broom, but all the time, while Ron blabbed, Harry nodded politely. He heard what Ron had been saying, but not comprehending. He was thinking of the trial, the letter, how to tell Ron about the Prophecy, about Sirius. . .  
"So then I pull out of the nose dive and straight up into the air! It was hard, but pretty useful once you get the hang of it," he finished.  
"Hmm. I'll have to try that one," Harry said thoughtfully. Hermione wandered over as Parvati and many other students headed out to dinner.  
"'Lo Ron," she greeted cheerfully. Ron's face and ears grew red.  
"Er. . . hi Hermione. Don't you want to go to dinner?"  
"Um, not right now. Are you okay?"  
"He's just a little tired from practice is all," Harry answered pulling up a chair. He glanced over at Ron whose eyes were asking if he should give her the letter now. Harry gave a slight nod and Ron answered by clearing his throat.  
"Harry will you do me a favor and make sure that all my Quidditch stuff is stored away? I don't want Dean or Neville to go looking through it," Ron asked, never taking his eyes off Hermione. As Harry clambered up the stairs, he couldn't help but smile as he heard Ron shuffle some papers. 


	10. Dolores, Detention, and Death Threats

10. Dolores, Detention and Death Threats  
  
Up in the dormitories, Harry stood staring out the window. The sky purpled and the first flickers of stars shone brilliantly in the atmosphere. He had never taken the time to appreciate how beautiful the night was at Hogwarts. To Harry, night had always meant realistic nightmares, and the death of a nice day. Death was represented by black, and the sky became a vicious black at night. Now night, and especially this night, Harry wished would last a lifetime. Tomorrow could take its time coming, no hurry. Tomorrow he would have to deal with the choleric actions of Snape and the return of Umbridge. The days that followed tomorrow only meant days closer until his Prophecy was fulfilled, but the night could delay that. The night could help him maintain sanity until the rays of the sun spilled in through the dormitory window and awakened the school. Night was something to appreciate.  
He pried his eyes away from the window and actually went to go examine Ron's Quidditch equipment. His broom was in horrible shape. It was splashed with mud, the bristles were falling out, and the wood was starting to splinter. Ron really does need a new one, he told himself. He deserves a new one. Harry locked the broom up and placed it under Ron's bunk. He then flopped down onto his own bed. Although the figures of night and the mild thoughts of Quidditch had comforted him somewhat, he felt extremely alone. He was up in the dormitories by himself, completely isolated, while Ron and Hermione and all the other Gryffindors relaxed in the common room, bodies warm with dinner. Harry suddenly felt cold and grey. He never knew that anyone could feel a specific color, but he imagined that this would be what grey felt like: cold and depressed. He couldn't take it. The silent hum of emptiness blared in his ears. Harry shuttered and made his way downstairs.  
The hum of nothing was cleared away as his ears adjusted to the common room noise. He spotted Ron and Hermione over by Ginny and Neville. They all smiled as they saw Harry make his way over. Ron and Neville parted so that Harry could sit in between them. Harry glanced at Ron. There was a brief understanding between them. He didn't know quite what Ron was thinking, but could read his eyes like an open book. Trelawney would have been proud. Ron shook his head slowly; he hadn't given Hermione the letter. What did you give her then? I heard you rustle something!  
"Nothing," Ron had replied to Harry's thought.  
"Wha-you, but how? What?" Harry sputtered.  
"He just answered my question Harry," Neville laughed worryingly. "Is that okay?"  
"Yeah. Sorry-I. . .sorry," Harry managed to spit out. Ron gave him a semi-frightened look and then cast a glance towards Hermione. Harry did the same; she was smiling and talking as usual. "I wrote that letter for nothing," he grumbled under his breath. Ron saw the tint of disappointment in Harry and cleared his throat.  
"So how's my stuff mate?" Harry caught on almost instantly.  
"Uh it's in pretty good shape, although you should see the bristles. They're pretty messy. Here, come upstairs with me and I'll loan you my kit."  
"Right then. Be right back guys," Ron smiled as he followed Harry, once again, back up into the dormitories. When they reached their room, Harry flopped down on his bed and sighed.  
"Why didn't you give her the letter Ron?" Ron looked down and started rubbing his sore shoulder. His ears turned a shade of pink.  
"Well," he hesitated, as if waiting for Harry to assume that that explained everything. When Harry shrugged, Ron continued. "It's embarrassing. Have you ever given Cho or anyone a confession letter?" Harry suddenly felt bad that he was annoyed with Ron for not giving Hermione his love letter. He never stopped to think of what it must be like, telling someone who you've liked for so long, all that you felt. He smiled sympathetically.  
"No I guess I don't," he said slightly ashamed. Ron smiled and nodded.  
"It's kinda, you know, nerve wrecking. I couldn't do it. Sorry I pushed you to write it so soon." Harry started shaking his head. He told Ron that he was sorry for getting annoyed with him. They accepted each others apologies and went back downstairs.  
"Broom alright Ron?" Ginny asked as soon as they took their seats again. "We can't afford to lose another good player."  
"Yeah it's alright I guess. I could use a new one though. I wish Mum would understand that a Nimbus 2001 is what I want for Christmas," he said blushing. "I wouldn't need anything else. I hate those damn sweaters she always makes! She can save those sickles for my broom."  
"You've got a perfectly good broom. I can see why she hasn't gotten you a new one," Hermione said matter-of-factly. Ron rolled his eyes and shrugged incredulously at Harry who chuckled.  
"What do you know about Quidditch anyway? Do you know what it's like flying around up there with nothing but a splintering broom beneath you? It's not the most comfortable feeling."  
"But it's not something you need you see. It's not something you need to carry out daily tasks. Take those poor house elves for an example. They need clothes. They need love. They need-"  
"They need you to stop making such a fuss about them Hermione!"  
"How would you like to spend your whole life working? To never know freedom or-or know how nice a holiday is once in a while? I'm trying to help them!" Hermione fired back. Harry started coughing into his hand to hide the fit of laughter that was collecting in his throat. To him, Ron and Hermione's arguments were like watching a fiery, energetic, muggle sport called a tennis match. The ball was in Ron's court.  
"If they wanted freedom or a holiday they would have revolted against us all by now!" Ron argued. Hermione started tapping her fingers on the armchair of the couch in a very irritated manner. Her lips took the form of Professor McGonagall's as she pursed them and she refused to look at Ron. Just when Harry thought the argument was won, Hermione made eye contact with Ron.  
"They were taught not to have their own opinion. They were bred not to revolt against their masters," she started out calmly, her voice rising in crescendo. "They were born into slavery and born to believe one thing."  
"Oh you reckon? And what would that one thing be?" he yelled. Harry had stifled his urge to laugh. If he had let one little giggle escape between his lips, Hermione would round on him. He shifted his gaze to Neville, whose mouth was gaping open, staring unblinkingly at Hermione. Ginny sunk low into her chair and was covering her mouth, obviously laughing to herself. Harry's laughter was resurrected.  
"Well I'm starving. Anyone care to join me to get something to eat?" he asked briskly as he strode across the room. Neville and Ginny jumped up from their seats and rushed out after Harry. Just as the portrait was swinging shut, Hermione's yells echoed out.  
"Blimey," Neville breathed. "Those two can really go at it can't they?"  
"Tell me about it. Hermione's house elf theories are hilarious though. Ron's right on this one," Ginny agreed through giggles.  
"Yeah, but you must agree that she has the best of intentions." Both Ginny and Neville considered this for a split second and then agreed with Harry. The Great Hall loomed in front of them and drew them into it with its warmth. Harry no longer felt gray or cold as he looked around the last bit of students finishing dinner and the reappearing foods that filled the plates. He found a seat and instantly began filling his plate. Light conversation drifted back and forth between Neville, Ginny, and Harry until they had finished. The three of them rose to go when Ron stormed into the hall.  
"Bloody friggin' hell," he sighed when he reached Harry. "I don't even know why she is mad at me! What did I do? What did I say?" he shook his head angrily. "Girls!" Harry, being quite used to this, clapped a hand on Ron's shoulder.  
"Just let it be. We'll all be," he paused, looking for the right word, "jolly tomorrow." Ron slowly turned to meet Harry's face, his own drawn in a disgusted manner.  
"Jolly? Who uses the word jolly?" Harry forced out a courtesy laugh because he couldn't tell if Ron was being sarcastic or serious. He shrugged it off and sat back down with Ron. "No it's okay. If you wanna leave then go.you don't have to wait with me."  
"No I'll wait."  
"We'll we're heading back," Ginny retorted. "I'm sleepy and full and have to finish this last bit of work. Night!" She waved goodbye to them and was followed by Neville who said he needed help on something and was going to see if Hermione was up to it. Harry glanced at Ron who would still shake his head every now and then.  
"She needs to give it up," he said finally. "Those house elves like what they're doing and are not going to quit. I wish she'd just drop it already."  
"Yeah," Harry laughed. "Me too."  
"But I don't want to talk about her right now. Wonder what happened to Malfoy's dad," said Ron trying to change the subject. "I haven't seen Malfoy around lately. He wasn't in Care of Magical Creatures or Potions today. Think he got busted for something?"  
"I hope so! I could use a year without the little ferret. Has he had his detention yet?"  
"I don't know. Maybe that's where he is now and I just didn't notice he was in class today."  
"I wish I could be oblivious to him," Harry responded. He looked around the rest of the Great Hall and watched as it cleared out. The morning was dawning. Harry felt his stomach lurch in effort to control the speed of the night. "C'mon Ron, let's go," he said gloomily. Without protest, Ron got up and grabbed a dinner roll on their way out. The two of them walked back up to the common room against the current of yawning students heading towards their own rooms. Harry saw a light glowing from the Dark Arts room and his stomach gave another unpleasant twist. "So it really is Umbridge then?"  
"Yep," Ron replied and that's all they discussed until they reached the Fat Lady. Harry gave the password and was surprised at how much the room had cleared out since they had left. Hermione was in a corner of the room, gazing out the window at the stars that gleamed and flickered like candle flames. Harry's unpleasant stomach churning stopped at the sight of her. Hermione turned her head as if in slow motion, flicked her hair and smiled at Harry. He returned the smile and made his way over to a chair. As he was walking over to Hermione, her smile faltered and then died. Ron had pulled up a chair next to Harry and his guilt returned. I don't fancy her! he yelled at himself.  
"I don't want to see you at this moment. Please leave," Hermione requested stiffly at Ron. He shook his head no and nestled into the chair, acting out to her that he was fine where he was at. Harry searched for a place to rest his eyes on. He couldn't look at either of them so he stared at the stars.  
"Is that the Dog Star?" Harry asked trying to avoid another argument. No one answered. "Leave!" Hermione demanded.  
"No!" Ron fired back. "Why are you mad at me anyways? What did I do? I don't understand you!"  
"Don't-under-stand? I. . ." she started to rise from her chair. Before she could say anything else, Harry jumped up from his seat, tearing his eyes away from the sky and fed up with their fighting.  
"No, no. It's my turn," he told them as he gently pushed Hermione back down into her chair. Before anyone could say anything else, Harry let out an extremely dramatic sigh and threw his arms up into the air in disgust. He then spun around on his heel, trying to suppress a laugh and stormed up into his dormitory, giving another dramatic sigh. "I don't understand you!" He cried sarcastically before slamming the door to Ron and Hermione's startled, yet amused faces. Harry smiled wearily to himself. He spotted Neville sitting on his bed scribbling something down, looking up every few seconds.  
"Hermione didn't help you?" he asked. Neville threw down his quill and splattered ink on his sheets.  
"I'm not doing homework!" he answered the wall facing his bed before picking up his quill and writing again. "I'm writing a letter to my gran if you must know."  
"Are you," Harry paused trying not to offend the already annoyed Neville, "feeling alright?"  
"I'm fine!"  
"No you're not! You were fine at dinner, but something's wrong. I-"  
"Would you just leave me alone Mr. Super Hero? I want to finish my letter."  
"Super hero?" Harry asked taken aback. "What do you mean 'super hero'?" This time Neville turned to meet Harry's face. His eyes were red with exhaustion and he looked pale.  
"You know what I mean! You were the one chosen to fight off Voldemort! The one who gets to save the entire wizarding world! The one who gets all the glory because you were the one chosen as the seventh month dies! Not me! You! You are the chosen one! The one who, since birth, has always been better than me! How do I know? Because Voldemort chose you to mark as his equal! Chose you to be the hero! That's what I mean by super hero. So now that I answered your question, would you please just let me finish my letter?" Harry stared at Neville in shock. All six years that he had known him, he would have never expected Neville to blow up like that. As Harry started recovering from his minor shock, it came to him that Neville had interpreted his prophecy. But how could he have known? He couldn't have heard it when it broke last year. It was too loud, Harry thought furiously.  
"How do you know that?" Harry demanded. He had always like Neville, but this had gone too far.  
"Dumbledore told me."  
"What? Why would he tell you my prophecy? That's a private business! I probably wasn't supposed to know! Why would he tell you?" Neville stood up and locked eyes with Harry.  
"Am I not good enough to know Potter?" Neville snarled dangerously. Harry didn't respond. Instead, he shoved his hands in his robe's pockets to hide the fact that they had become slightly moist with nervousness. "He didn't tell me the whole thing, just the part that concerned me which was the seventh month dying thing," he said more calmly, breaking eye contact with Harry and sitting back down on his bed. Harry swallowed.  
"Well if you want to face the fact that you don't have any chance at defeating Voldemort and knowing you are going to die when you fight him, then go ahead. You be the chosen one. You try and be the 'hero' if you want it so bad. Have fun with your glory Neville! That is if you live to receive it," Harry spat as the cold, grey feeling started over coming him once more. He watched as Neville lowered his head, signed his letter and then mumbled something into his chest. "What?"  
"Sorry Harry," Neville repeated, folding his letter and placing on his night stand. "It's just that it's always been you. You are the one who gets to save the day. I never thought of it like that.  
"Yeah well just keep that in mind," there was a moment's silence and then, "aren't you going to send that?" Neville laid down on his bed and pulled the covers up to him. He placed his hand over his eyes and shook his head.  
"Nope. Night Harry." This is going to be a long year, Harry assumed.  
  
Light cascaded over Harry's eyelids and thawed the comfort of night away. He reluctantly sat up on his elbows and looked around the blurry room. He groped for his glasses and when he found them glanced out the window. The sun was shining brightly as if smiling on all the Hogwarts students. The lake sparkled temptingly and the grass could not be a more brilliant shade of green. To Harry it was like the sunshine was rubbing in the fact that today he'd have to meet with two uptight professors. He dressed slowly and lingered down into the common room. Ron was sitting in the same chair as last night and was drooling onto the table. Harry smiled to himself.  
"C'mon Ron! Wake up!" he shook him briskly. Ron swiped at Harry's hand and slurred upset grumbles. "Let's go Ron! The sun is shining! It's morning." At this he sat bolt up right and looked out the window.  
"Thank heavens its tomorrow! I couldn't sleep. I thought last night was going to drag on forever," he said smoothing out his shirt.  
"I wish it would have lasted," Harry said under his breath. "So what happened?"  
"I guess we're on good terms. I don't really know," Ron yawned and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't really care all that much right now," he added barely above a whisper so that it was not audible to Harry. Harry decided that he would keep the argument he and Neville had had the previous night secret until he told Ron about the prophecy. He took off his glasses, cleaned them, and then flopped down onto the couch with a sigh.  
"I hate Umbridge," he informed Ron. "I'm not going to put up with her this year. If she is enforcing those stupid rules again-"  
"You'll do what?" Malfoy had stepped out of the portrait of Godric Gryffindor and into the common room wearing his sickening smirk, his polished Head Boy badge contrasting against his Slytherin colors. "Is that a threat against one of our professors Potter?"  
"Get out of here Malfoy," Ron demanded as he tucked his hands into his robes reaching for something. He frowned at Malfoy, a snarl plastering itself on his face. Malfoy's smirk grew even wider and he shook his head sympathetically.  
"Don't even think about it Weasley or I'll have my father-I'll have you expelled," he covered up quickly. Harry sat up at the mention of Lucius and was wearing the smirk this time. "Don't say anything Potter. Don't. . .say. . .anything."  
"Where you been Malfoy? In Azkaban visiting your dad?" Harry's smile broadened as he asked the question that he knew would wriggle itself under Malfoy's skin.  
"NO!" Malfoy yelled. "I told you not to say anything!" He too placed his hands inside his robes pocket. Harry's finger tips tingled with adrenaline, ready to whip out his wand and curse Malfoy. He was waiting for him to cross that line.  
"What's going on?" Malfoy nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun around, robe twirling at his feet. "What are you doing in here?"  
"None of your business Granger," Malfoy spat before retreating back behind the portrait. He shot one last scowl in Harry, Ron, and Hermione's way and then plodded out of sight grumbling. Harry watched him go and for the first time in six years, he noticed that Malfoy walked with the slightest limp.  
"Morning!" Hermione greeted them with the satisfaction of scaring Malfoy away.  
"Hello Hermione," Harry smiled. Ron gave her a welcoming glance and mumbled a greeting back. She smiled politely, but there was still something tense between the two. Breakfast was the slightest bit quieter than it usually was. Ron and Hermione had not argued since they first saw each other and Harry kept trying to avoid eye contact with Neville. It was a bad start to a day that was worsening with every thought of Umbridge and Snape.  
  
"I'm actually a little excited about our Dark Arts class," Hermione said hurriedly.  
"What?" Harry exclaimed. She smiled sheepishly as Ron stopped mid- chew. "Excited about Umbridge?"  
"How could ya be exthited about that thupid witch?" Ron asked through a breakfast roll.  
"Well, I want to see how she's, if she even has, changed. I'm not happy about it."  
"But excited?"  
"Erm-I, uh, I dunno. I don't think I meant excited. I. . . I think I meant, err, I meant apprehensive," she replied quickly to Harry and Ron's accusations. Ron raised his eyebrow and then swallowed hard.  
"She hasn't changed. I bet you anything she hasn't," he stated.  
"She could have! Remember Harry's dream?" Hermione replied in defense. Harry shuddered. The thought of Voldemort dwelling behind Umbridge's eyes, the rancid smell of decaying flesh and the cold voice that filled the abandoned Ministry of Magic diminished his appetite. "Green and Red eyes are definitely a change Ron," she finished.  
"But it was only, and I mean this in the best possible way," Ron told Harry before continuing, "a dream. That's all it was." Anxiety rose in Harry's throat. It had been a pretty realistic dream.  
"All the other times-last year, the dreams I had, they all eventually came true. Like the one about your dad Ron where I dreamt I was a snake and bit him and the dreams about the corridor to the Department of Mysteries. . .oh man."  
"But Harry, in your dream you said that the Ministry was abandoned. It's not. All the other things in your dreams last year were true."  
"No they weren't," Hermione implied. "The door to the Department of Mysteries was locked in Harry's dream. It wasn't when we arrived." Harry shook his head. Hermione had a point, but it was a bad one.  
"I think I'm just going to ditch Defense Against the Dark Arts today," Harry joked. Hermione's eyes widened to the size of Luna's and her mouth formed a gaping hole.  
"Harry! You can't ditch a class!" she half exclaimed, half whispered. Ron's fork dropped with an audible clang. His nostrils started flaring at first and then his lip started trembling. He started laughing.  
"Are you serious?" he chuckled. "Harry was only joking." Hermione blushed, but it was underestimated by the glare she had fixed on Ron.  
"It's not that funny. He didn't sound like he was joking."  
"I know, but the look on your face! You looked like a fish outta water!" Ron laughed even harder at the thought. He picked up his fork as if he were holding a fishing pole and cast off in Hermione's direction. He then pretended to reel her in. "Look Harry, I done caught myself a good one." Harry couldn't help but begin to laugh himself. He stopped at the look of Hermione's face, which was still glaring at the both of them.  
"Ah c'mon Hermy. We're only playing around," he comforted cautiously. Her glare stayed plastered for a few more seconds and then vanished.  
  
"Oh! We better be heading to our classes now!" she exclaimed, the liveliness coming back to her tone. "We have Dark Arts first and then you guys have Divination while I-"  
"Who cares? We have to go," Ron informed them reluctantly. The three of them stood up in unison and headed towards the door. Harry scanned the room for a sight of Umbridge, but spotted Luna instead. She looked over at him and he smiled back, but she didn't return the smile. She looked upset and slightly disappointed. Harry then remembered that he had never given Luna his reply. He plunged his hand into his pocket and found his crumpled response.  
"Uh, I'll catch up with you guys in a second," he told Hermione and Ron before running over to catch up with Luna. "Luna!" She revolved slowly to meet Harry's eyes, her own protruding ones full of depth and not liveliness. Harry took out his reply and placed it into Luna's hands so that no one would see.  
"What's this?" she asked monotonously.  
"My reply to your letter from earlier. Sorry I'm getting it to you so late, but I've had other things to deal with first." He watched as a small smile came to her face and lit her eyes like candle flames. "You thought I forgot about it didn't you?" She nodded, fumbling with her butter beer cap necklace. Harry returned a small smile.  
"Thank you. I'll read it later," she told him in her usual voice and spun around to hurry out of the room to her class. Harry retreated to Ron and Hermione, where they waited by the Great Hall doors.  
"What was that all about?" Hermione asked suspiciously. "What did you give her?" Ron looked at Harry too with a wondering look.  
"A response to something. It's not important. C'mon," he replied hastily, unable to meet their eyes.  
"I feel bad now Harry," Ron said suddenly. "I mean that letter you wrote for Hermione that I was going to give to her, well I backed down, but you have to courage to give Luna a letter."  
"It's not that kind of letter Ron!"  
"You wrote me a letter Harry? About what?" Hermione asked unable to control a smile and once again blushing the slightest bit. He saw Ron start shaking his head frantically and throwing glances towards her.  
"Nothing," Harry mumbled. "You guys are getting confused. Her letter was about Sirius and I was writing her back. That's all it was. Nothing more, nothing less. Now come on, as much as I hate to say it, we have to get to class." The two of them looked taken aback after Harry's explanation. Hermione's smile was gone and Ron concentrated on his feet on the way to the Dark Arts room. Harry's stomach was churning and writhing around inside him as the door lurked closer and closer. It suddenly loomed over him, consuming him in his own anticipation. He stood crowded against the other students, waiting to meet their fate in the Dark Arts classroom. Harry struggled with the urge to vomit. It can't be this bad, he reassured himself. It's just Umbridge. The door opened.  
"Good morning students!" a sickly, girlish voice emerged from the toad like structure that faced them all. "Come in now. Come in," Umbridge ushered. Everyone trudged into the classroom and took their usual seats- Harry by Ron and Hermione next to Neville. Umbridge glided to the front of the class, still wearing a smile that would give small children nightmares.  
  
"This is how it started yesterday," Ron whispered. "She's going to make us do bookwork again. She hasn't changed."  
"Please take out your books and turn to page-"  
"I'm not dealing with this. I'm not going to put up with her Ron," Harry whispered back.  
"Potter! We haven't even been in here five minutes and you're already not paying attention. Week's detention!" Umbridge fired at him. Harry's jaw dropped. He felt disapproving eyes on the back of his head. Umbridge smiled and clenched her fists at her side. Keep it under control, don't loose your temper. She's just a stupid git who doesn't know anything. Don't listen to her, Harry told himself. "I heard that Potter!"  
"WHAT?" Harry yelled. "I didn't say anything!" Ron nodded vigorously in agreement with Harry.  
"I thought I got it into your thick skull that you were not to tell lies in my presence. Another week's detention," Umbridge said in a cold tone that occupied the tense air of the classroom. Harry was a furnace and anger was burning, roaring inside him, but trying not to make matters worse he calmly he said: "I didn't say anything Professor Umbridge."  
"Disturbing my classroom while I am teaching," Umbridge clicked her tongue, smiling all along. "That's another week of detention and thirty, no, forty points from Gryffindor."  
"NO!" Harry yelled. "What are you doing? You don't know what you're talking about! You're probably still delirious from that snake attack!" Umbridge's fake smile extinguished. He could see her jaw clenching and unclenching in sync with her fists.  
"You don't know anything about that snake attack," she started out calmly as he had before. "You don't know how horrid that was! How dare you! How dare you even assume that!" her voice was rising. "I am a certified, Ministry employed teacher! They wouldn't have me here if I were INSANE!"  
"YOU ARE INSANE! YOU FAVORED LUCIUS MALFOY!" Harry screamed back. He was sick of Umbridge already. He had had enough of her last year and was not going to live through another two semesters of the torture she liked to inflict on him.  
"That's because Lucius Malfoy works for the Ministry and would never harm anyone! He did not kill Ewan Renton!" Umbridge shrieked.  
"He did too! I heard it all happen! I-" Harry paused realizing what Umbridge had just said. He suddenly realized why he had dreamt of her as Voldemort. "You-you're a Death Eater. That's why you're defending Lucius because he's one too. An-and Ewan was a former Death Eater, denouncing Voldemort and that's why Lucius killed him. It wasn't because of him bullying Malfoy; it was because he had turned his back on him." The room was in complete silence. No one moved. No one breathed. Umbridge's stare bored into Harry's eyes and his scar seared. The classroom swayed in and out of focus, burning his pupils every time it did. He threw a glance at Umbridge and for a split second, her eyes flashed jade and crimson. Harry collapsed onto the floor. The burning subsided and he sprinted out of the classroom. As soon as he had escaped into the deserted hallway, his searing scar stopped instantly, leaving his head with a whack. Harry had the worst head ache he had ever had. It was like someone slinging an ice pick into a block of ice. The sharp hook would crash into the ice, then be lifted, and then brought down again as it cracked and sent pieces of ice all over. He fell to his knees. Crawling to the most nearby wall, he sat up against it, catching his breath, the ice pick headache slowly drifting away. Harry heard the Dark Arts door click open and he stumbled to his feet and continued running.  
"I will have you expelled so soon Potter!" Umbridge hollered after him, but he didn't catch anything else she was saying for he had just rounded a corner. At the same time, Snape had suddenly appeared in front of Harry, and before his Quidditch reflexes could apply brakes to his feet, he had smacked into Snape. Harry bounced off of Snape's frail body and stumbled backwards into a statue of Helga Hufflepuff almost knocking it over.  
"What's your problem Potter?" Snape demanded, slightly doubled over from Harry's impact. "Another death you're trying to pin on me? Is that what you're escaping from?" The ice pick flew into the block of ice.  
Harry quickly clutched where it had crashed. "Sorry Professor," he mumbled. As footsteps echoed down the hallway, butterflies danced in Harry's stomach. He started forward but Snape had clamped a hand down on his shoulder.  
"You heard every precious detail of my life," Snape growled menacingly. "You heard every detestable comment I said about my childhood. You know about the actions of my cynic father," he accused.  
"You think I wanted to learn all that stuff?" Harry asked as Snape's lower eyelid twitched. He didn't see Snape's point of telling him this. Harry knew it already. Footsteps grew closer. "I have to go."  
"You weren't meant to know those things. No one was meant to hear those confessions. If anyone, any pupil catches one word of what you have learned," Snape paused, debating if he should say what he was going to say next. Harry's eyes darted for an exit to run to after Snape had finished his little lecture on how ungrateful he was to not be in Azkaban for telling the truth. "I'll personally make sure that you'll have a family reunion." Harry's darting eyes froze on Snape's pale face. He had never had a death threat from a professor. Anger overruled terror once again.  
"It's not my fault! Dumbledore made me listen to you!"  
"He didn't use force."  
"Well what was I supposed to do? Cover my ears and pretend I never heard anything?"  
"I thought my failed attempts at teaching you Occlumency would have at least developed one thing in your head! Block it out! You could have shut it out Potter!" Snape snapped. "Detention with me tomorrow night," he mumbled. They exchanged hate filled glances before Snape took his hand off Harry and sped away briskly. Harry watched him walk away with a sour, acidic feeling in his stomach. Umbridge appeared.  
"You-here-now!" she panted. Students appeared at her heel watching anxiously. He saw Ron and Hermione walk up together with expressions of bewilderment plastered on their faces. His mind could no longer make up decisions and so went with his instinct on what to do next. Harry took off sprinting once again. 


	11. Damn Her

11. Damn Her  
  
Running. Running instead of standing up for himself. Harry came to a halt and tried to catch his breath as he stirred these thoughts over in his scar branded skull. Now that he was out of eye sight of Umbridge, he no longer had a splintering headache.  
"Holy hippogriffs," he breathed as he slumped down against a wall. "This is going to be some year." He could hear more commotion in the hall even thought it was deserted. The classes are getting ready to let out, he thought warily. The thought of this made the first relieved grin on Harry's face all day. No more Umbridge. But, his conscience interrupted, you need to go back and get your things. Harry slapped his palm against his forehead and slowly brought it down his face. He drew in a deep breath, clutched his wand at his side, and marched back in the direction in which he came from. His feet, which had apparently turned to lead bricks without Harry's permission, dreadfully carried him back towards Umbridge's classroom. As he trudged down the hallway, he caught a glimpse of the last of the Dark Arts students making their way back in her classroom. Umbridge had obviously gone chasing after him. Why else would they return to the dungeon so late? He didn't give it much thought and stealthily slid into the room.  
"What happened?" Ron exclaimed as soon as Harry set his toe in the doorway. All the students, just as they had at the mention of Harry and Malfoy's fight on the train, had spun around instantly at the sound of excitement in Ron's voice. But Harry did not respond. He stared at Umbridge, oblivious to the burn that started to build inside him.  
"No one is to talk to Mr. Potter while in my classroom," Umbridge spat. Her extremely fake and girlish voice had transformed into a cold, manly like one. She shook her head, cleared her throat, and in a sickly sweet tone of a boy going through puberty said, "Everyone have a splendid day! You are all dismissed. All of you except-except Potter."  
"I'll tell you about it later," Harry whispered to Ron, trying not to move his lips so Umbridge wouldn't think he was talking to him. Ron nodded and left with Hermione and Neville. Umbridge rapped her fingers on her desk- smile gone. "What do you want?" "Don't give me attitude Potter," she said with her eyes closed. She clucked her tongue, "I was hoping our first day together would be better. I thought you would have a little more sympathy for me to be honest with you."  
"WHAT?" he yelled. "Sympathy for-for you? Give me one good reason why I should have sympathy for you!"  
"One word: centaurs."  
"Three words: you deserved it!"  
"Deserved it? Why did I deserve it? I was trying to make Hogwarts a safer, more secure place for young witches and wizards of now and of tomorrow! How do I get repaid? You and that know-it-all Granger girl lead me to a pack of centaurs! I knew that Firenze was trouble! I should have kept that wicked Trelawney. He probably tipped off the others about me! I did not deserve it!" she explained with her eyes still closed.  
"You did too deserve it! You tried to lose Dumbledore his job! You banned everything that included me, the ministry, and Voldemort in the same conversation, article, whatever! You've made professors have breakdowns! And I now have another scar thanks to you! It's not a lightening bolt, oh no! It reads 'I will not tell lies'! You deserved it and you know it!" Harry fired back! His body trembled with the anger that he had towards Umbridge. She had no right to attack him like this. He might have a sliver of sympathy for Snape, but none for Umbridge. His feet had decided to transform back from lead bricks and were now itching to leap at her. His wand was still firmly wrapped in his right hand. Umbridge opened her eyes. It felt as if Harry had been struck with lightening. An indescribable pain rushed through him. He stumbled backwards, clutching his chest. His lungs felt as if they were on fire.  
"You'll soon learn Potter that I can be much more horrific," Umbridge said in the ice cold voice again. "I can cause you much more pain and you'll find that it's not always physical. You will suffer while in my class, I will guarantee you that. Prepare to start dying Potter." Harry's eyes burned. His bones felt as if heated daggers were being driven into them. The ice pick was splitting the chunk of ice in two, right down the middle. His fingers fell limp and he screamed in fury. He screamed, trying to stop the pain that pulsated throughout his corpse. He screamed because of the unfulfilled vengeance he wanted on Umbridge. He screamed and then his world went black.  
  
"I'm telling you Dumbledore, if this is going to continue throughout the year, I won't take it! I can't keep occupying hospital beds because of low blood sugar!"  
"That's not why he collapsed Poppy."  
"Well then why does he keep falling down all over the place? It can't be heat exhaustion because it's October! What other reason could cause him to black out?"  
"That I cannot tell you."  
"Well if you want me to give him any treatment you're going to have to tell me Dumbledore!"  
"He just needs rest. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to speak with him. Thank you for taking care of Harry until I arrived." From the corner of Harry's eye, he could make out two blurry shapes by the door, one of which was walking his way. His body throbbed with left over pain from the little ordeal with Umbridge. Unfortunately for Harry, he could not remember anything she said. "You're awake I see."  
"Yeah," Harry breathed, "I am." As he said those three words, it felt as if his ribs had caved in. Whatever Umbridge had done to him was the worst he had felt since summer. He placed a hand on his pajama clad chest and began massaging where it hurt.  
"What happened to you?" Dumbledore asked softly. Despite the fact that Harry was still annoyed with him, having the opportunity to complain all he liked about Umbridge without getting detention was comforting to him. "Does this have to do with Professor Umbridge?"  
"A lot to do with her. How did you-er-know?" he questioned. Dumbledore shook his head and told Harry to tell him what happened. "Well," he began, cradling his ribs as he spoke, "I went into my Dark Arts class and she started picking on me. I'm not going to take another year of her torture Professor. I don't mean to so stubborn, but-"  
"Just go on Harry. I don't care how stubborn you sound," Dumbledore interrupted him quietly.  
"When I was arguing with her, my scar started burning and my head was killing me so I left the room. Well, ran out of the room to be specific. She came out after me and I continued to run. Then I went back to get my things and she told me to stay after class."  
"Did your scar hurt then?"  
"Yes very much," Harry mumbled quietly. He took his eyes away from Dumbledore and instead looked at his hand. "But I don't think I noticed it then because I was just so mad at her. We started yelling at each other and then it felt as if someone drove a truck through me. That's all I remember." The hospital wing was silent. Dumbledore took a seat at the foot of Harry's bed, touched his fingers to his temples and started murmuring to himself. Harry fidgeted uneasily. He hated these silent moments with Dumbledore.  
"What were you two yelling about? What did she say to you?" Dumbledore asked calmly, but suddenly.  
"I can't remember. I think the drunk driver careening into me left a bigger impact than what we were shouting about."  
"That's an interesting description of pain."  
"Yeah well," Harry sighed looking up at Dumbledore, "when you endure it as often as I do it becomes harder to describe. I can't use the same description over and over. It would get just plain boring."  
"No need to be sarcastic Harry. I understand you are upset. To be honest, I'm not the happiest about having Professor Umbridge back either," Dumbledore explained. He took off his signature half moon spectacles and cleaned them with the inside of his robes which were starting to fade. Slowly and steadily, he placed them back on his nose.  
"Why did you hire her then?" Harry asked puzzled. "If you didn't like her last year-how could she possibly redeem herself? Everyone hates her!" Dumbledore shook his head sorrowfully.  
"It's seldom I employ a professor whom everyone hates," he continued. What about Snape? Harry thought humorously. "Indeed I believe this is the first time I've done so. There have been professors in the past that I know some have disliked strongly, yet never hated. Hate is such a strong word Harry. It is so bland, yet so powerful. Do you really hate Professor Umbridge?"  
"Yes. I do!" he responded and instead of a frown or a shocked expression from Dumbledore, Harry received light laughter.  
"I do too. Who would have thought that his ol' man could hate?" he chuckled before resuming seriousness. "The Minister of Magic forced me to take her back."  
"Buy why?" Harry asked, sitting himself up, "Er-how? How could somebody force somebody else to hire an ugly, poison-injected toad?" He sat up completely against the throb of his aching ribs and allowed Dumbledore more to space to sit. He obliged to Harry's offer.  
"You saw the bandage on her leg the night of Professor Snape's Veritaserum trial correct?"  
"Yeah I saw it," he replied. "I'm glad she was injured," he added under his shallow breaths. Harry winced at the thought of how painful a blow to the ribs must have been to Malfoy while they were fighting. He clutched his chest again in an effort to ease the pain. Though it did not help much, it comforted him slightly on the inside.  
"She was attacked while at the ministry and had to suspend herself from work there. She pleaded to Cornelius Fudge to find her another job that didn't require so much leg work. Reluctantly, he sent her here.  
"He didn't use physical force, but verbal. Fudge threatened to have me fired if I didn't take her back. He said that the Ministry would see it as discrimination against a poor, old, disabled woman with a lust to teach. I, of course, had to give in, but only under two conditions. One was that she was strictly prohibited from creating and or nullifying rules to prevent the anarchy she caused at Hogwarts last year. The second one was that I would have a substitute professor until she was able to walk. She's power hungry, much like Fudge, but with these conditions in order, Hogwarts will most likely maintain sanity, or so I hope." Harry caressed his scalp by running his fingers through his hair. It had become a habit in stressful situations.  
"So you have to keep her no matter what," he said to himself. "You mean to tell me that you don't have the authority to fire her?"  
"I'm only allowed permission to expel her from our schooling facility if she is a threat to the students and staff," Dumbledore stated. "That's why I needed to know what she said. Any death threats to you," he chuckled, "and she's outta here. Are you sure you don't remember anything?" Harry shook his head and mumbled an apology. He could tell that Dumbledore was disappointed about his lack of memory. He rose to leave and towered over Harry. "I must be departing now to speak with the Arthur and Molly about Order business. I wish I didn't have to skip supper because of it, but I think my stomach can forgive me. One last thing," Dumbledore hesitated. Harry glanced up skeptically. "Do-do you forgive me for last year Harry?" Harry's ribs produced an enormous throb against his chest. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists trying to breathe evenly. The question pained him to answer. Part of Harry wanted to forgive, yet the other half was still bothered with the fact that Dumbledore could have prevented Sirius's death. Sirius had been a father figure to Harry, but now he had none. If he forgave Dumbledore, maybe it would lift a tiny amount of depression off his shoulders.  
"I forgive you Professor," Harry murmured. Dumbledore's face broke out in a smile much like Ewan's. He nodded once to acknowledge Harry's response and then left the hospital wing. The pain in Harry's chest eased slightly. As soon as Dumbledore had stepped out of the room, Madam Pomfrey came bustling in.  
"Feeling better are we?" she asked in an agitated manner. "Well then you can leave now. C'mon! Get up! I need this hospital bed!"  
"But my chest and sides still-"  
"You were well enough to have a visitor. C'mon now Potter. I need these beds!"  
"But I'm the only one in here. Please don't send me back to my classes. I'll be bombarded with questions and my ribs are still killing me!" he pleaded.  
"Killing you? It doesn't look like your dying. Besides, classes are over."  
"Over?"  
"Yes over. I'm glad you can still hear correctly. Now get changed into your robes and leave!" She left Harry for his privacy, muttering to herself about students and how they fake being sick. Harry rolled his eyes and began to dress into his day time clothes. As soon as he finished, he made a bee line for the Great Hall and found it filled with the usual dinner crowd. He scanned the Gryffindor table for Ron and Hermione, but they were not there. Instead, Luna caught his eye and beckoned him over to where she was sitting. He tapped his foot, deciding if he should sit with the Ravenclaws and wondered if anyone would see him. Malfoy was not in the room and neither were Neville, Ginny, Seamus, or Dean. Before he could completely make up his mind, Harry found himself at Luna's side.  
"Erm-uh, hi Luna," Harry greeted uneasily as Ravenclaw heads turned to him at his appearance. He saw Cho look up from where she was seated. "I really can't stay and chat. I have-uh-make up work to do."  
"You can't work on an empty stomach Harry. Plus, I know you were hospitalized today. You should eat something," Luna informed him very optimistically. "Sit, sit!" Cho watched him like a hawk as he debated with Luna. When Harry sat down, she jumped up and made her way over. "I read your letter," she said as soon as Harry's bum hit the wooden bench.  
"Oh did you? I have to admit-" Harry began, but was cut off by Luna.  
"You're a little unsure about it aren't you? It's okay I understand."  
"Do you?" asked a surprised Harry. His mouth had suddenly become dry as Cho took a seat right across from him. He grabbed a goblet and drank the lukewarm water inside. "Evening Cho," he said nervously.  
"Hi. How are you feeling? I heard you collapsed after class today." Gossip is a major problem here, Harry thought, annoyed.  
"I'm okay I guess. Thanks," he answered, turning back to Luna. "So how do you-um-understand?" She drew a breath to answer but never had the chance to exhale because Cho had interrupted.  
"Just okay?" she asked, feigning sympathy, "Why just okay? Is everything-?"  
"I understand because when I first learned I can talk to my mum, I didn't believe it. I thought how could you talk to someone who is-"  
"Luna, I'm sure Harry is really, oh what's the word, fascinated by your first words you your mother, but his health is more important than that right now. So, as I was saying Harry, why just o-"  
"We weren't talking about my first words to my mum silly," Luna laughed. "We were talking about-oof! Ow Harry!" Harry had stomped on her foot under the table to avoid an awkward moment with Cho. He muttered "sorry" to Luna and took another drink of water to chase down the unpleasant after taste of embarrassment.  
"Look, I'd really like to eat dinner with you two, but I have a lot of work to do and it's almost eight o'clock. I should start heading back now," he informed them.  
"Okay! We'll talk later then! I'll send you an owl with details," Luna said cheerfully.  
"Yeah, alright. Talk to you later then Luna. Bye Cho." Harry stood up and immediately grabbed at the excruciating sharp pain in his ribs. He grimaced and leaned forward onto the table for support. Once he was able to take normal breaths, he straightened up and headed for the door. He heard footsteps following hurriedly behind him as he stepped into the corridors. A hand grabbed his.  
"Are you okay?" Cho asked, honestly worried this time. Her eyes glossed over and became shiny with tears. "You're not going to d. . .d. . .die are you?"  
"No Cho. I am not going to die," he groaned. Then smiling to himself added, "At least night tonight." She whimpered and the river of tears flowed down her flushed cheeks in a steady current.  
"What?" she exclaimed. "They've given you a limited amount of time? How much longer to you have to live?" she choked out through tears.  
"Cho," Harry addressed her in an unbelievable tone, "I'm only joking. I'm not going to die." Her lip quivered and then she wrapped her arms around Harry and sobbed into his shoulder. "Ow! Ow! Cho! Please! Leggo! Ow!" He shoved her off of him and clenched his teeth, trying to hide the fact that her hug hurt him a great deal. Offended, her eyes grew large and round. To prevent another breakdown from Cho, Harry touched her cheek and gently wiped away her tears with his thumb. "Really," he started so quietly it was barely above a whisper, "I'm fine. My ribs just hurt pretty badly. That's why I pushed you off. It hurt when you hugged me, but I'm honestly okay. Trust me; I'm not going to die." She looked at him suspiciously for a split second and then nodded in understanding. Harry started loosening his grip from her hand and started to pull away.  
"Can I walk you to your common room please?" Cho asked quickly and spontaneously. Harry bit his lower lip.  
"Er-sure if you really want to," he replied. She smiled and tightened her grip. They walked hand in hand to the portrait of the Fat Lady. It was a silent walk, but Harry remembered how much he had missed having someone's hand to hold. He felt comforted, and invulnerable while holding Cho's hand. He felt almost as if he were protecting her from the despair of the world. I'm not trying to play the hero, Harry reassured himself. I just like feeling like I am one.  
"Password?" The Fat Lady requested.  
"Just a second," Harry told her. "Well, um, it was nice walking with you again. Good. . .goodnight."  
"Wait," Cho stopped him, "before you go, if you don't mind me asking, what were you and that Luna girl talking about?" Harry took his eyes off her and stared down at his shoes.  
"We were talking about my godfather. She offered me her condolences," he replied rather solemnly.  
"But when I sat down she was talking about her mother," she told Harry, her voice quivering once again.  
"Oh yes, well her mum died some time ago and she. . .she-er-she said she understood how I felt," he stammered.  
"Oh. Oh I see. Are you sure you're not going to die?" The pressured feeling left Harry as he laughed at Cho's question. She smiled uneasily, not sure whether he was making fun of her or just laughing.  
"If I were to die, do you think I'd spend my last precious moments on this earth doing school work? I assure you Cho; I'm not going to die." She looked into his eyes and chuckled a little herself. Harry smiled once again and tried to regain possession of his hand. The Fat Lady cleared her throat impatiently and clicked her tongue.  
"I better let you go," said Cho.  
"Yeah I better be going."  
"Yeah. . ."she trailed off. Harry had his hand back, but couldn't find it in him to turn and just walk away. He shuffled a step closer to her. She did the same. Suddenly, Harry was caught in a flash back of last year. They were under the mistle toe, Cho was walking close to him, he felt incredibly nervous, and his mouth was extremely dry. She approached him and. . . .  
Harry closed his eyes as he felt Cho's lips brush lightly against his own. All emotion left him, he only felt warm inside. His ribs no longer throbbed and hammered against his chest. The weariness of the day was nowhere to be found. The stress Snape had installed in him had vanished in thin air. The weighty depression of the grievous loss of Sirius had been lifted. Umbridge could not be farther from his thoughts as he stood in front of the portrait, kissing Cho. It was all gone, yet all blissful. He slowly planted his hands on her waist and she clamped her hands down on his shoulders. This moment felt so right to Harry. Time was no longer perpetual, it was frozen for now. He never wanted it to end. The Fat Lady sighed and Harry shot back to earth. He opened his eyes half way and then closed them again feeling reassured. I can't breathe, he thought suddenly and frantically. I can't breathe! Oh no. I'm going to pass out kissing her! Why didn't I take a breath!? Oh man, I can't breathe She's going to think I'm a loser if I faint! I can't breathe! Don't let me pass out please! Fortunately for Harry, Cho pulled away first, gasping. He did the same, refilling his empty lungs. The pain in his sides and chest was restored as he gulped down air, but he didn't mind. The pain had been gone while he was with Cho and now only came back in a faint pulsating form.  
"'Night Harry. Hope you feel better," she panted, trying to hide her blushing face.  
"Thank you. I already do. Night!" he smiled, steadying his breath and turning to the Fat Lady.  
"Can I have the password now?" she asked.  
"Plexippus paykulli," Harry revealed. The portrait swung open and he stepped inside, walking on the clouds. Ron and Hermione got up at his entrance, ran over to him, and practically carried him over to where they had been sitting before.  
"Spill it," Ron demanded as soon as they had sat Harry down. Hermione moved to the edge of her seat anxiously waiting to hear what had happened between Umbridge and himself. Harry adjusted himself, wincing as he did and took his last needed deep breath.  
"Why are you out of breath?" Hermione asked as a hint of concern developed in her voice. "Are you alright Harry?" This seemed to be the question of the day.  
"I'm fine. My ribs are really hurting me that's all. It hurts to breathe so it took me a while to get up here from the Great Hall," he lied.  
"Maybe they're broken?"  
"We wouldn't know. That PMSing Pomfrey wouldn't let us visit you," Ron muttered spitefully.  
"No I don't think they're broken," Harry laughed. "Just sore."  
"So," Ron urged, "what happened?" Hermione leaned in even closer. Harry glanced around the room to make sure that all ears were on their own conversations.  
"Okay," he started out in a low voice, "she was picking on me as you all heard. My scar started to burn and I felt violently ill. So I left. I ran and. . ." he told them the whole thing. He explained angrily about the run in with Snape and his death threat. He shuttered as he relived the pain he felt in Umbridge's classroom and he raised his voice back to its normal level as he told them about his conversation with Dumbledore. By the time he had finished, Ron and Hermione's eyes were sparkling orbs of astonishment. He snorted at their disbelief.  
"I am so sorry Harry," Hermione mumbled barely moving her lips and still staring unblinkingly at Harry. "I am so sorry for any grief I have ever caused you." She swallowed and started shaking her head.  
"It's alright. I'm-uh-I guess I'm okay now. I'm used to it," he sighed.  
"Did she ask Fudge to be sent here?" Ron asked. "I bet she did. I bet she wanted to rub it in your face Harry that she wasn't going anywhere and that she's here to stay."  
"I don't know. I hope we have a new Dark Arts teacher next year," Harry implored. He removed his glasses and placed a hand to his eyes. Slowly, but firmly, he began to massage his tired eyelids. "I know I slept through the rest of my classes, but I'm exhausted guys. If you don't mind, I'm going to head to bed."  
"I'm way ahead of you pal," Ron said. He stood up and Harry noticed that he was dressed in his night clothes. "You don't mind, d'you Hermione?" Hermione let out a disappointed sigh.  
"No I guess not. I've got a load of Head Girl paperwork that needs to be filled out. Goodnight you guys. See you tomorrow. Hope you get better Harry," she smiled warily.  
"Thanks. 'Night. Don't stay up too late, you'll tire yourself out."  
"What are you? Her mother?" Ron joked. "Goodnight Hermione." As soon as Harry and Ron reached their dormitories, Harry carefully laid down on his bed. His ribs ached as they made contact with the soft mattress, but it was so comfortable and inviting to a tired and worn out Harry that he didn't bother to clutch them. The lead that had once been his feet when walking back to Umbridge's classroom was now resting on his eyelids. They became top heavy and collapsed onto the bottom lids. The stars twinkled in the sky and cast a soft glow into the dormitory. The warmth he had from kissing Cho comforted him into a deep sleep. The night was definitely something to appreciate.  
Midnight came sooner than Harry would have wished for. He had heard the usual rustlings of someone coming back into subconsciousness. He tried to ignore it, but whoever woke up a little at midnight had maladroitly slapped something against the wall and awoken Harry with a flinch. He sat up dreamily and looked to his right where the sound had come from. It was Ron. Ron was also sitting in his bed only very much awake. He was cradling his hand (which must have smacked the wall) and was rocking back and forth. Without asking what had happened, Harry nestled himself back under the covers and closed his eyes to try and sleep once again.  
"Harry," someone whispered. "Harry are you awake?" The voice sounded frightened and panicky. He let out a sigh that was not audible and sat up again, the agony of his ribs now awake and trying to force him to lie down.  
"Whassa matter Ron?" he yawned sleepily. The last of the black sky that he had seen before sleeping had purpled and some of the stars were not visible. Morning comes too soon, Harry told himself sulkily.  
"I think I broke my hand or," he bit his lower lip, "or at least a finger. Will you come to the hospital wing with me?"  
"How could you break something in your sleep?" Harry half-chuckled, half-whispered. "Was that you who smacked their hand on the wall or something?"  
"I dunno! I think I was still asleep at that part. I woke up and felt an incredibly sharp pain in my hand." Ron held up his hand for Harry to see. He put his glasses on and hesitantly stood up and walked over to Ron's bed. Ron's hand was not contorted, but did have an odd discoloration to it.  
"Might've just bruised it."  
"It hurts a lot more than a bruise Harry. C'mon. Will you please come with me? Maybe she'll check your ribs out. Do they still hurt?"  
"If they don't then I'm the Queen of England."  
"Nah. Your legs are too hairy. Let's go," Ron said as he stood up and looked down at Harry. "Sorry 'bout waking you up." Harry just smiled and led the way downstairs. His ribs had definitely gotten worse. They felt swollen and stiff and would barely let him move. With every step, a rib on each side of him felt like it punctured his lungs and he'd have to take sudden, quick intakes of breath. Whatever Umbridge had done to him was killing him. They made it to the hospital wing door and stared up at it. The lights were all off and the darkness engulfed them. Harry shivered.  
"Should I knock?" Ron asked.  
"No! Not you," Harry scolded. "Do you want another broken hand? Maybe we should just go in."  
"Okay." Harry placed his hand on the cold hospital door and cautiously pushed it open. Not a sound was to be heard, not even breathing. It was obviously unoccupied. Harry and Ron crept in and squinted into the darkness trying to see. The last bit of light coming from the torches in the corridor was diminished when the door closed silently behind them.  
"Ah great," Ron spat. "I can't see a blasted thing!"  
"Ssh! If we get caught-"  
"What are you doing down here? It is too late for sixth years to be down at this hour!" Madam Pomfrey stood in front of them, though Harry and Ron could only see her outline. They could hear her tap her foot impatiently on the tile floor. "Explain yourselves!"  
"I think I broke my hand," Ron said nonchalantly. "I gave it a good smack against the wall a few minutes ago and now it is really bothering me." Madam Pomfrey muttered lumos and the torches in the room lighted and reflected off the stone walls. Her nostrils flared as she glared at Ron and then switched her gaze, which was supported by purplish bags under her eyelids, to Harry.  
"And you Potter? You didn't pass out again did you?" she demanded.  
"No, but-" "Oh so there is something wrong with you! Silly me. I should have known! Well you there-yes broken hand boy-you take that bed and Potter, I believe you've occupied enough beds for one day. You can just stand." She walked briskly over to Ron. He yelped as she fiercely yanked his hand up to her eyes to examine.  
"Careful! CAREFUL!" he shouted. "It still hurts!"  
"Don't raise your voice to me young man! I can see that it probably still hurts. However, it is not broken, just badly bruised. Now back to bed with you," she told Ron harshly.  
"But I want to wait for Harry," he argued loudly.  
"Nope. You need rest. Now up to bed. NOW!" Ron slid off the bed reluctantly, holding his hand. He gave Harry a goodbye glance and made his way back to the common room. Madam Pomfrey had placed her hands on the side of her head and was rubbing them in circular motions. "What's wrong with you?" she muttered.  
"Well my-er-nothing," Harry said at last. "I was just accompanying Ron."  
"That's good news. With that Umbridge in here all the time, it seems like I never have time for anything. Including sleep," she said to herself.  
"Why is she in here all the time?" Harry asked ecstatically. "What's wrong with her?" He was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, waiting for Madam Pomfrey to reveal inside information about Umbridge. Instant blackmail, Harry's conscience laughed.  
"Private information Potter." Harry stopped in mid-bounce as Madam Pomfrey destroyed his hopes at getting Umbridge back.  
"What?" he asked incredulously.  
"You heard me. Now if you'll excuse me, I must be getting back to bed before she comes in her again. You need to leave. Goodnight," and before Harry could say another word, she had bustled out into a separate, excluded room of the hospital wing. He was still frozen in his mid bounce position, waiting for her to change her mind and spill everything about Umbridge. She never walked back out. He completed his bounce and then did an about-face heading towards the door. Ron was leaning up against the wall by the entrance to the hospital wing with an I-showed-her smile on his face.  
"What's wrong?" he asked.  
"I was this close to finding blackmail against Umbridge," Harry replied holding up his forefinger and thumb together to indicate how close he was, "This close, but no. I'm never going to get her back! I wish Fred and George were still here. They'd know how to torture her." Ron laughed.  
"We could always ask Peeves you know. Remember what they said last year? 'Give her hell from us Peeves,'" Ron imitated.  
"True. Come on let's go before we get caught be Filch." Harry shoved his hands in his pajama pant's pockets and walked back to the common room with Ron at his shoulder. They hadn't taken the Marauders' Map and so had to stealthily peek around every corner before turning it. Eventually, they made their way back, whispered the password to the drowsy portrait and clambered inside. Harry felt sleepy again, but something collecting in his chest-perhaps guilt- kept him from making his way to bed.  
"Ron, I'm gonna die," he blurted out spontaneously. The words tumbled from his numb lips and lay scattered throughout the deserted common room. There was a momentary awkward silence where Ron didn't know whether to laugh or to take it seriously. Like a true optimist, he smiled.  
"When did you run into her?"  
"Who? What are you-uh-talking about?" Harry asked, puzzled. He hadn't run into anybody who could have possibly had any connections between him and his final show down with Voldemort. Ron's smile left his face somewhat and caused it to rearrange into that of a confused grin.  
"Trelawney. When did you run into her?" Ron asked once again.  
"I didn't. I-," Harry began to reply, but then it came to him. Harry had never told Ron that he was going to die unless he was mocking Professor Trelawney. The swelling cloud of what he assumed was guilt, had swollen to its fullest content and began to drizzle a light rain. It spread the guilt to various parts throughout him. His toes felt cold, his hands clammed up, and he felt a heat so blistering under his shirt, it was freezing. How could he keep such an important part of his future from his best friend? "I never told you about my Prophecy," he said lugubriously.  
"Your what?"  
"That crystal ball that the Death Eaters wanted so badly was my Prophecy. What's going to happen to me basically. I can't remember all of it, but it comes down to this," and then the room went black.  
His body felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach as it was flung back into nothingness. He tried to open his eyes, but the gale force winds that he was being tossed through burned them. Harry landed on something hard and splintering. The wind had stopped, his heart rate was back to normal, and the atmosphere was calm and relaxed. Just like inside him, it was raining outside. He blinked to focus his eyes and saw that he was sitting next to a familiar man and a young lady who looked extremely nervous. She kept fidgeting and wringing her hands under the table that they sat at. Her glasses magnified her eyes. The man took a sip of his drink and then cleared his throat. Slowly, he began to speak.  
"Well thank you for your time Sybil. I must be on my way back to the castle," he said as he picked up his hat and began to position it on top of the long strands of brilliant white hair.  
"Wait! Please wait! Please! I feel-er-I feel some. . .something coming Professor! Erm-please!" the lady pleaded as she jumped up from her chair. The man opened his mouth to speak, but shut it immediately as the lady's eyes glazed over. Her nostrils flared and her pupils became dilated. A string of drool trickled down her quivering chin. At that instant, Harry felt checked from behind as he flew forward. The table, man, and lady disappeared and he was flying through nothingness again. However this time, he felt something different. His lips began to move and he felt words form. He couldn't hear them, yet he was speaking them. The wind came to a halt and he was standing were he had always been standing. Ron's jaw nearly touched the floor.  
"Wha' 'appened?" Harry slurred, trying to refocus his eyes. "What just happened?" he asked more steadily. Ron's jaw came into contact with his upper jaw. He swallowed, and then it returned to it's normal place-the carpeted floor.  
"You went into some kinda trance or something," he said barely moving his face's fixed position. "You. . .you looked at me and then did a really. . .really nice imitation of Dumbledore and that crazy old bat with eyes too big to fit on her face. I mean Trelawney."  
"What did I say?" Harry asked. The roof of his mouth felt like it had turned to dust. He swallowed, but nothing happen. It remained dry.  
"Something about those who had thrice defied Voldemort and him marking the one born as the seventh month dies as his, I dunno, brother or something because he had powers Voldemort didn't know of."  
"Voldemort will mark as his equal the one that is born as the seventh month dies. He has powers the dark lord knows not. They can't die at the hand of each other," Harry muttered.  
"Yeah it was something along those lines!"  
"That's my Prophecy Ron. Bottom line is either I kill Voldemort in the end, or he kills me. I don't know how though because we have a feather from the same phoenix in our wands! Our wands are brothers! You can't kill someone with a sibling wand!" Harry added, frustrated. He sat down on the couch as Ron shifted his position uneasily. Harry knew he had something to say, but it was something that Ron had trouble saying. Just say it. From this point I can handle anything, he thought to himself heatedly.  
"Well, erm, why?" Ron managed to ask without offending Harry.  
"Because that's the Prophecy," Harry muttered. "That's my future mate."  
"Yeah I know that, but why does it have to be you who kills Voldemort. If Dumbledore is the only one he ever feared, then why doesn't he just do it? 'S not like he's using your wand or anything."  
"I don't know," Harry said suddenly skeptically. "Why couldn't he have done that all along?" He started to pace back and forth thinking deeply. Perhaps Dumbledore was really on Voldemort's side, purposely failing to kill him, so that Harry would die trying to do what Dumbledore could not. Harry didn't want to believe that that was what really was going on, but he had become more suspicious of Dumbledore ever since Sirius died. Dumbledore let him die, he thought bitterly.  
"Or maybe something catastrophic will happen if the Prophecy is not fulfilled," Ron interjected. Harry considered this and then shook his head.  
"No I don't think so. It's just a prediction."  
"Then why did those Death Eaters want it so badly?" Harry's heart sank. He knew it had to be more than a prediction or else it wouldn't have been taken so seriously. "You're in denial," Ron laughed. And the laugh comforted him. Ron was laughing at the fact that Harry could die and to Harry, it eased the tension.  
"True, but I don't want to talk about it anymore," he muttered. Harry started the usual climb up to the dormitories, but Ron did not follow. "Aren't you coming?"  
"No. Not yet. There are a few things I need to add to your letter," he smiled nervously. Harry shrugged and turned to his bed. His ribs did not hurt anymore.  
The next day went by in a whirl wind. Gryffindors did not have Dark Arts, but instead potions with Snape. His classes seemed to go by in a rush (except for Mr. Binn's class which dragged on for too long) and before he would have liked, it was time for potions. Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked up to Snape's dungeon door and awaited their welcome in. Malfoy was huddled around Crabbe and Goyle, but instead of looking remorse, he looked malicious. As the trio walked to the class, he smiled devilishly and began whispering rapidly to Crabbe and Goyle.  
"Looks like that scumbag is feeling a whole lot better," Hermione said harshly. "Yesterday he looked as if he had eaten a rotten potato. This could only mean one thing."  
"What?" Harry and Ron asked in unison.  
"Something good for him, but bad for the rest of us, happened in the case against his dad and Professor Renton."  
"You're probably right Hermione," Ron agreed. "I hope the ministry can see past his money and into the black, cold heart of his."  
"I hope Malfoy goes to Azkaban too," Harry added onto Ron's thought. Just then, the door opened with a bang and Snape poked his pale, somewhat wrinkled face out into the open. The grease in his hair shined in the light of the torches.  
"In," he commanded. "Now." He spun around and led the way in. A foul, musty odor of old liquor and rotting wood gagged the class. The students slowly covered their mouth and nose with the cuff of their cloaks and sat down cautiously in their seats. Snape sat down behind his own desk and stared at the class. His reddish-pink eyes shifted from face to face and blinked unevenly. He then pulled his beginnings of jowls into a twisted and gnarled smile. It was the first smile Harry had ever seen Snape give. Even Malfoy looked astonished.  
"What's wrong with him?" Ron whispered to Harry, but Harry didn't reply. He kept his eyes on Snape whose face contorted and contracted underneath the skin. He parted his cracked lips to reveal an open mouth occupied with yellow, if not green, teeth. Snape then started a ragged, heavy breathing that sounded like shards of glass being raked against concrete. He tried to grip the flat surface of the desk, turning his knuckles white in effort. His breathing stopped and his eyes darted around the room until they focused on Harry.  
"Damn her," Snape muttered and then vomited a thick, black liquid with flecks of red onto his desk. Blood began to trickle slowly down from the corners of his lips and drip onto his desk like a leaky faucet. He threw up more black matter freckled with blood. "Damn her," he croaked out again. Snape's blood shot eyes rolled up in the back of his head and he began to cough. He passed out face down in his own regurgitation. 


	12. Mother's Blood

12. Mother's Blood  
  
The class sat in horror at the sight they had just witnessed. No one moved nor dared to take in a breath. Mouths gaped and eyes bulged. Was Snape dead? Another odor was added to the room due to Snape's ordeal. It was the stomach churning smell of a rotting citrus fruit decaying in the blistering sun. As the shock of the situation sunk in, the room started to become alive with students again. Malfoy, sitting in the front near Snape's desk, ran out of the room with his hand clamped over his mouth. A girl shrieked and broke down crying.  
"That's two deaths this year," Harry heard someone whisper. "From now on I'm going to be home schooled." This comment, which had absolutely no reaction to what had just happened, upset Harry.  
"Someone get Madam Pomfrey!" he yelled. Bodies slowly revolved in their chairs and forced their terrified faces to stare up at him. No one moved at his command. Hermione shivered, but did not move and Ron just gripped the bottom of his seat. "Fine," Harry growled, "I'll go." He ran out of the room to the now familiar path to the hospital wing.  
He reached the hospital in a matter of seconds and barged in. His eyes grew terribly dry and his throat used that as a cue to form a gagging lump of phlegm right below his Adam's apple at the sight of the hospital wing. Hagrid, Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and Professor Sprout were sprawled out in hospital beds. At their sides were silver and battered buckets filled almost to the brim with something that resembled molasses. The only three professors that were not present were Umbridge, Binns, and Trelawney. Harry spotted a frantic Pomfrey carrying a tray out of an undisclosed back room. She dropped the tray with a clatter at the sight of Harry.  
"YOU!" she yelled in a shrill, high pitched tone. "LEAVE! NOW! LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT THIS PLACE! I CAN'T DO IT ALL!"  
"Madam Pom—"  
"I can't do it all," she began to weep into her shaking hands. "Leave Potter! I guarantee that you are fine. LEAVE!" She picked up the tray and walked over to Professor McGonagall and began to dab her forehead with a cold wash cloth, wiping her own tears away with the back of her hand.  
"Listen. I'm not here because of me. Snape became violently ill just now and passed out," Harry calmly said. "We're not sure if he's dead or not." He cautiously approached Madam Pomfrey, whose weeps had subsided into whimpers, and overlooked the condition of Professor McGonagall. As soon as he had reached her bedside, Madam Pomfrey's hand had frozen in mid air. Her jaw moved slightly up and down in an attempt to form words of disbelief and denial.  
"Oh no. Tell me this is not happening," she managed to mumble in a barely audible voice.  
"What's wrong with them?" Harry pointed to the ill professors.  
"They've been poisoned. And they were poisoned by the most potent substance. Without a potions master. . . " she trailed off. "We have to save Snape first."  
"What's this stuff in these pails here? Is this medication? Can't we use this?" Harry asked. Madam Pomfrey let out a nervous laugh.  
"That's their stomach contents Potter. I like to call it a chuck bucket. Come on, we don't have much time." She walked hurriedly towards the hospital wing door. Harry took off after her. They made their way up the corridor (which seemed especially long because they were trying to get there in a hurry) and were just about to step into Snape's dungeon when the worst person possible to show up at a time like this, stepped in front of Harry and Madam Pomfrey.  
"What's wrong Poppy?" The rage in Harry had created a beast that gave off the notion of a rabid dog in a cage. Umbridge had been poking the beast with a stick repeatedly and the dog ached to get out and demolish her. Now the cage door had been left ajar.... Don't do anything rash, his conscience told him, only it wasn't his voice. It was Sirius's. Who better to know about raging, captivated dogs than Sirius? But Sirius isn't here anymore, the other half of Harry's conscience taunted. Don't listen to him! He's dead!  
"Severus and the other Professors have been poisoned," Madam Pomfrey said impatiently as she tried to push past her.  
"Oh that's horrible!" Umbridge gasped, but for a split second, Harry could have sworn he saw her smile. "Children such as Potter shouldn't be witnessing this sort of thing! I'll escort him to my office."  
"I've seen much worse. You know I've seen worse," Harry snarled through gritted teeth, shaking with fury. Before he could defend himself, Umbridge's stubby, fat fingers wrapped themselves around his wrist so tight that the "I will not tell lies" phrase embedded in his skin glowed. She gripped him so tightly that he could actually feel his own pulse thumping against her finger tips. The tighter her grip, the wider her malicious smile. Madam Pomfrey didn't take notice and instead pushed herself between the Umbridge barrier and into Snape's dungeon.  
"Come Potter," Umbridge hissed. She yanked him down the hallway to the door he dreaded and with much protest, finally got him inside. "Sit," she commanded, smile gone.  
"I prefer to stand thanks," he said coolly. She watched him like a vulture watching its prey take its final breath of life. He suddenly had no fear facing Umbridge. Despite the fact that she had caused him excruciating pain the day before, he was ready for her. Harry's fingertips grasped his wand lightly in his robe's pocket.  
"I told you to sit."  
"No!" Harry yelled and then the smile came back to Umbridge. So disgustingly sweet, it burned into your mind. To Harry, facial expressions had never been able to reveal so much about a person. But Umbridge's did. It gave the impression that she would cackle at a funeral as the relatives of the deceased placed a rose on the casket. Then Harry thought of his parents dying. If she had been there, she probably would have laughed, he though furiously. And this thought, brought on by his raging conscience, had forced that rabid dog out of its cage. He overturned a desk and sent miscellaneous items crashing to the floor. He then kicked over a chair and sent it flying across the room. She smiled as Dumbledore had when Harry destroyed his possessions at the end of last year.  
"Poor boy. Snape being poisoned really upset you huh? You must really like the guy."  
"I don't like Snape!" Harry huffed. "I never did and I never will!" He sent another chair careening across the room. Umbridge didn't flinch as it crashed into a wooden cabinet that wobbled back and forth due to the impact.  
"If you'll stop wrecking my room for a second, I'd like to give you some tea to calm your nerves," she said in a voice that reminded Harry of Trelawney's. She slithered over to Harry, smiling, and placed a cup on a saucer on the desk he hadn't managed to destroy. "Bottoms up Potter!" He clutched his wand close to him as he peered over the edge of the cup. Inside looked like one of Trelawney's tea leaves had rotted and liquefied. The tea emitted a familiar smell; the smell of Snape's dungeon before he had vomited. Umbridge's eyes bulged as he picked up the cup. He brought it to his lips and froze. She was bearing her teeth in a grin that looked like a grimace. He then flung the cup down onto the floor and watched it shatter into oblivion. The liquid sizzled on the floor.  
"Did you honestly think I would fall for your 'tea act' again? I don't have any information that you need. Why are you trying to use Veritaserum on me?" he spat. A single bead of sweat trickled down her cheek and dropped slowly from her chin as she stared at the broken ceramic cup and black goo, which was supposedly tea.  
"IT WASN'T VERITASERUM!" she screamed in his face. Her eyes flashed red and green and Harry's scar felt like it was trying to be sawed in half. She closed her eyes and his scar stopped throbbing. He grabbed the table for support and tried to fight his rising gorge. As his eyes came into focus again, he stared down at the bubbling black liquid. It's their stomach contents Potter, Madam Pomfrey's nervous laugh rang in his mind and his stomach lurched as he realized what Umbridge had tried to serve him.  
"You," he mumbled. "It was you. You despicable woman! You poisoned them! YOU POISONED THEM ALL!" Umbridge threw her head back and cackled. Her laugh sounded like thunder and lightening and all hated noise. Her devilish chuckle rose from the depths of hell and echoed off the walls. Harry made his hand into a fist. Umbridge brought her head forward and narrowed her eyes into snake like slits. She placed her hands on her hips and leaned in towards Harry.  
"Where's your proof?" she snorted.  
"Right there! How will you explain that?" he yelled, pointing to the broken cup and poisoned tea. Umbridge gently slapped her cheek in mock surprise.  
"Right where Potter? I don't see anything." She drew her wand and gave it a tiny flick. The poison, cup, and saucer all vanished into a wisp of smoke. Her cackle began to rise. Harry snarled and took a step closer to her, raising his clenched fist.  
"Now, now Potter. Don't do anything rash," she laughed even harder. His body became paralyzed from the neck down. His breath was caught in his throat and his face grew hot, terribly hot. She had mimicked Sirius. She smiled at Harry, smiled at Sirius's death.  
"Don't you ever," Harry started to say, but couldn't force it out of him. His brain was too focused on hurting Umbridge than finishing sentences. He drew his wand and aimed it at her heart. Her smile died instantly.  
"You wouldn't," she breathed.  
"You killed them! Killed Hagrid, Professor McGonagall and," he stammered, "and—and my uncle! You deserve—"  
"HARRY NO!" Dumbledore stepped into the doorway and pulled out his own wand. "Accio wand!" Harry's wand was torn from him and into Dumbledore's free hand. Fawkes then soared into the classroom and snatched Umbridge's wand from her trembling hand. He did not issue and explanation.  
"Albus I demand my wand back! Potter threatened to kill—"  
"You will address me as Professor Dumbledore. Understood?" he said in a booming, stern voice. "And I know what he tried to do Dolores."  
"But Professor, she poisoned all of the other teachers except for Trelawney and Binns!"  
"I know!" Dumbledore shouted. "I know what is going on! Do not mistake me for a fool who does not know about any of the mishaps that occur while he is gone," his usually soft blue eyes turned to that of cold, wet marble. He placed the confiscated wands into his robes and took a deep breath, "Professor Trelawney sent me Fawkes with a letter explaining what had happened. Where is Poppy?"  
"In Snape's dungeon," Umbridge answered. "I didn't think that Potter needed to witness such a horrid event so I took him to my classroom."  
"And the other students?"  
"Well if Poppy Pomfrey was in the right state of mind she would have sent them out," Umbridge answered, slightly abashed. Harry saw her look at him from the corner of her eye. Her famous smile appeared as Dumbledore began to stroke his beard in thought. "Can I interest you in some tea Professor?"  
"No. I'm fine thank you," he glared down at Harry as he said this. He then turned on his heel, cloak billowing at his ankles and retreated in the direction of Snape's dungeon. From down the hall he called, "Come you two." Harry dashed out of the room as soon as Dumbledore had hollered back. Umbridge puffed at his heels.  
They followed Dumbledore down into Snape's dungeon. To Harry's surprise (and to Umbridge's satisfaction) the students had been removed from the classroom. Dumbledore made his way silently through the eaves- dropping crowd and closed the dungeon door. Harry spotted Ron and Hermione in a corner, whispering rapidly to each other. Both had expressions of a heart broken toddler witnessing his dead fish being flushed down the toilet. It pained Harry the slightest bit to see them traumatized. As he walked over to them, he saw Ron reach for Hermione's hand slowly, probably to comfort her. Burning with anxiousness to tell them that Umbridge poisoned them all, but not wanting to ruin the moment, he halted and searched for someone else to talk with. Seamus Finnigan came into view, whispering amongst a few other Gryffindors. Harry started to join Seamus's posse of listeners, but Hermione spotted him.  
"Harry! Over here!" she called to him. He watched as Ron spun around, jerked his arm back, and redden. With a faint sense of guilt in the pit of his stomach, her hurried over towards them. "Snape's been poisoned!" Hermione half-whispered, half-shouted. "We heard Madam Pomfrey!"  
"I know," Harry whispered as he lowered into a huddle with Ron and Hermione in an effort to blend out of the crowd. "And so have Hagrid, Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout, McGonagall, and the rest except for Umbridge, Binns, and Trelawney."  
"How do you know?" asked Ron as his eyes grew larger.  
"Because I saw them in the hospital wing. All of them. They were all sweating and gaunt looking with what Madam Pomfrey likes to call a 'chuck bucket' filled to the brim with their vomit."  
"That's disgusting!" Hermione cried and cupped her hands over her mouth.  
"Well poison has gotta leave your system somehow Hermione," Ron explained. "It doesn't just disappear like. . .like magic."  
"Yeah and I know who did it," Harry glanced over at Umbridge to whom Malfoy was talking—sucking up to. "It was Umbridge. I know because she tried to poison me when she dragged me down to her classroom."  
"That's great!" Ron sprang up.  
"What?" yelled Harry, offended. "Ron, she tried to poison me! Poison me! What could possibly be terrific about the fact that I could have been throwing up everything I've ever digested and half a lung?"  
"And most likely could have died," Hermione added. Ron started shaking his and smiling at Harry and Hermione's defensive reactions.  
"You know it's not that guys. You have to have a more in-depth grasp on the situation. Through suffering comes greatness," he stated in a matter of fact tone. Harry and Hermione blinked simultaneously. "I read it somewhere. Anyway, now Umbridge can be fired! That's more than a death threat! That's an attempted homicide! You suffered with her long enough to the point that she tried to kill you and now she can be fired and out of your life forever! Pain equals good!" Ron exclaimed. Harry sighed and straightened up out of their huddle.  
"That's not going to happen. I have no proof. She destroyed it all. If only I would have—" He was cut off by the clatter of the dungeon door being slammed open and the appearance of Dumbledore carrying Snape in his arms. Snape's eyelids were half closed, showing the white part of his eyes. His jaw slacked to one side and the tip of his tongue peeped out of the corners of his chapped-lipped mouth. A blood diluted drool string trickled down the drying blood and regurgitation on his chin.  
"Listen up all of you," Dumbledore commanded without the slightest hint of struggle in his voice. "Due to the poor health and lack of Professors, Hogwarts will have to be closed until further notice. Go to your dormitories and pack your things. I will meet you all in the Great Hall with further instructions. Go." The students, whose eyes had taken the shape of Luna's, looked at one another and sped off to their common rooms. Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned to leave with the fleeting crowd, but Dumbledore called Harry back. "I need to speak with Harry alone," he told Ron and Hermione. Once again leaving Harry, they smiled reassuringly and walked off. Harry saw Ron reach for Hermione's hand again, but a frightened Slytherin had run between them.  
Dumbledore stood straight up unblinkingly outside Snape's dungeon. Harry sensed a vibe that Dumbledore did not want to be questioned about holding him back and so silently stood at his side. The door opened and Madam Pomfrey slid out with a hand full of herbs and spices, bottles filled with multi colored substances, and a rather large book in her mouth.  
"Do you have everything needed Poppy?" a now soft-spoken Dumbledore asked. Madam Pomfrey, unable to talk due to the book, nodded vigorously and caught a slipping bottle with her arm pit. "Okay, let's drop Severus off then." He strode down towards the hospital wing being careful not to accidentally whack Snape's head on a statue and opened the door for Madam Pomfrey. She shuffled in, placed her items down on an already cluttered desk, and started to set up a bed.  
"Okay," she panted, "here's a bed for him Professor. I'll try and make that antidote to the best of my ability, but I didn't do so well in potions when I took my O.W.Ls."  
"That's fine Poppy. Whatever will keep them breathing. I'll be back to check on the status of all the professors in about half an hour." The hospital bed creaked as he cautiously lowered Snape's limp body onto it. Dumbledore straightened up and stared down upon Harry. He did not smile and his eyes did not indicate warmth. "You'll be coming with me to my office. Good luck Poppy," he said. Harry and Dumbledore walked briskly out of the room and to the stone statue that disguised Dumbledore's stone staircase. He gave the password and without waiting for Harry, immediately began to ascend up the spiraling stairs.  
They entered his room. All the things Harry had smashed and destroyed were replaced, unscathed on top of Dumbledore's shelves. The portraits wore grim expressions and did not smile nor talk amongst themselves when Harry entered. He waited until Dumbledore had sat down in his high-backed arm chair to sit down in a wooden chair opposite. Dumbledore placed his fingertips together and rocked his connected hands back and forth. Harry felt uncomfortable in the seat he sat in. Memories of last year came flooding back to him.  
"I'm sorry I have been so cross with you," Dumbledore sighed, interrupting his flowing memories. "You'd feel the same way if you could understand where I'm coming from."  
"I accept your apology," Harry croaked. "But why am I here?"  
"You will be going back to the Dursleys."  
"What?" Harry exclaimed, jumping up from his seat.  
"Go ahead and smash my things. As you can see, they are replaceable," Dumbledore told him hurtfully. Harry lost the urge to destroy Dumbledore's possessions. What good did it do him to break everything in his sight?  
"I won't go!" he yelled instead of throwing something at the wall. "I hate it there! Why can't I go with Ron or at least back to Grimmauld Place?"  
"You would be putting the Order of the Phoenix and the Weasleys in danger while residing with them in our wizarding world. Voldemort is now able to fight old men like me without much help. You saw that in the ministry last year. He's stronger Harry. His Death Eaters have gotten stronger and the fear of him has gotten to the point where Cornelius Fudge is starting to break down. You simply must go back to the Dursleys."  
"The Order can fight off Voldemort!"  
"But what if someone else you hold most dear to your heart dies? Then what Harry? Then what? Then you won't have the will, or motivation to fulfill the Prophecy," Dumbledore fired back, starting to rise from his chair also.  
"The Prophecy," Harry muttered. "That damned Prophecy! It's only a prediction! If you were the only one Voldemort ever feared, why couldn't you just—"  
"Let's not get into that right now Harry. You are going to the Dursleys and that is an order. I'm not doing it to punish you. I am doing it to protect you."  
"You're doing it to protect the stupid Prophecy!"  
"I'm doing it because I love you!" Dumbledore roared. "I knew how you feel because I was an orphan too. My parents died when I was only a few months old. I don't know how, but they did. That's why family is so important Harry. Family and your mother's blood will keep you safe. I had to live with my mother's brother. Her blood coursed through him and I felt more than protection. I felt loved."  
"You obviously didn't have an aunt and uncle like mine. Mine are forced to keep me. You are forcing them to love me," Harry spat. He shoved his hands in his pockets and headed for the door.  
"I love you like a grandson Harry. I'd do anything to keep you alive. But I can't force anyone to do anything. Wizard or not," Dumbledore stopped him. "I can only influence them to do it on their own free will." Harry looked down at the doorknob that glistened in his hand. Dumbledore's words had branded themselves into Harry's mind. He was drowning in a sea of mixed emotions. Frozen by the door in Dumbledore's office, unsure of how he felt at the moment, Harry realized why Cho had broken down so much. As simple minded and roseate as she seemed to Harry, she was confused and needed a shoulder to cry on. She didn't cry because she thought he was a bad kisser, and she didn't cry for attention. She cried because she needed someone that could understand what she was feeling.  
Now he needed someone that could understand. The only person that really did was gone, and Cho, who did feel mixed emotions, did not feel the same emotions Harry felt. She didn't lose a family member; she lost a trophy to show off to her friends. As much platonic love Harry had for Ron and Hermione, they would only pretend to comprehend and say everything was okay. It wasn't okay. Harry's heart leaped into his throat and the twisted, forlorn image of no one being there for him burned his eyes.  
"Whatever," he muttered and quickly led himself out of the room. Coming down the staircase, he wiped away what little tears had started to form and slouched into the Great Hall. The atmosphere was decorated in tension. He went to find a place at the Gryffindor table. As usual, he found Ron and Hermione and squeezed in between them. The other houses, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, had joined the Great Hall in a matter of minutes with suitcases and packages that they had obviously packed to take home with them. All those who had entered wore frightened, splenetic faces as they took their seats. Because of the mood the Gryffindors and Slytherins had set, no one spoke. And no one moved until Dumbledore joined the fearful crowd, his presence installing hope in some. He faced the students and began to speak with a saturnine tint in his voice.  
"My fellow Hogwarts students, unbeknownst to some of you, tragedy has stricken the school. All but three professors have been poisoned. Madam Pomfrey is using her best efforts to create a most difficult antidote. Until we either employ enough back up professors, or until our regular ones are in perfect health, the school must be closed," someone let out a small whoop. Dumbledore immediately spotted the culprit and stared an unmerciful stare at the student. "This is not something to celebrate," he spat dourly. "These professors are in such horrible condition that I'm afraid that there is a chance they may die." Harry saw someone shrink into their chair and blush a bright red. Tell them it was Umbridge, he thought desperately. Tell the whole school it was that poor excuse for a human being! "You all must proceed to Hogsmeade in order to catch the train home. Your parents have been notified." Dumbledore opened the Great Hall doors and ushered them out. He grasped Harry's arm.  
"What?" Harry demanded, trying to pull free.  
"You will go to the Dursleys Harry. That is an order," and with that said, Dumbledore let go and hurried two first years along the current of frantic students. Harry sighed deeply and then tugged his trunk along Ron and Hermione. The three of them were silent as they made their way to the train station. Both Hermione and Ron had overheard what Dumbledore had told Harry at the Great Hall doors, but kept their mouths shut. Harry focused his eyes on his feet, too angry to look at anything else. They heard someone retch as they passed the hospital wing.  
Finally the train station came into view. The ruby Hogwarts Express awaited their arrival with its humming engine echoing off the walls. The conductor, or so Harry assumed, was directing and helping people board the freight.  
"C'mon, come on," he snarled. "Don't got all day 'ere! 'Urry up and seat yo'selves!" The trio pushed themselves past a crowd of arguing students, fighting over who sat next to who and finally made it on to the train. There was a major noise difference than inside the castle. Here, people were gossiping and ranting loudly at what had happened. Disgusted at their concern for none of the professors' conditions, Harry found an unoccupied compartment and settled in.  
"This is a nightmare," he breathed as he flumped down on a seat. "Torture, plain torture."  
"Well," Hermione said as she sat down next to him, "who would you rather be with? Umbridge or the Dursleys?"  
"Neither."  
"I hear ya," Ron contributed ruefully. "I don't see why you can't just stay with us Harry."  
"I know why and I guess it's a good reason to be with the Dursleys now that I truly think of it," he started rubbing his neck unconsciously as he spoke. Apologetically he said, "It's so I don't put you two and the rest of the Order in danger." Ron snorted.  
"What a load of," he paused at the warning look on Hermione's face, "they don't think we can handle it? We could fight off whoever would be trying to get you."  
"Voldemort you mean?" Harry asked grumpily. "He's gotten a lot stronger since our second year Ron. He's not just a memory anymore. You didn't see him in our fourth or last year. He's a lot more powerful than I would have hoped for." No one had a response to this comment and instead looked down at the floor, trying to avoid eye contact with Harry. The train jerked slightly forward and began its journey back to King's Cross. Harry could picture it in his mind: He'd say a sorrow filled goodbye to Hermione and Ron. Then after Uncle Vernon would have hollered at him for taking to long, he would shuffle away from the last bit of happiness he would have for a while. The car ride would be silent, except for the guttural snarls being produced from an upset Uncle Vernon. He would get home and be sent to his room, only to leave for food and water. Most students appreciated an unexpected vacation. Harry hated any type of vacation at all. There was a knock at the door.  
"Come in," Hermione said cheerfully. Her cheerfulness flickered out when Luna popped her head into the compartment. "Oh," she huffed. "Can we help you Luna?" Luna smiled quickly and then stared at Ron with her enormous eyes.  
"Er—what?" he asked testily as he somewhat cowered away from her.  
"I wish to speak to Harry," she answered in her usual dreamy, optimistic voice. "But it's private. Could you two leave for a moment?"  
"Why?" Hermione jumped up, obviously offended. "Why do you want us to leave? What can't we hear that he can?"  
"I'm not going to murder him or anything. No need to get your knickers in a bunch," she fired back. Hermione sat down, her upper lip suspended in a disgusted manner.  
"Why can't we hear it then?" she interrogated stiffly, crossing her arms.  
"Why don't I just step outside instead?" Harry suggested, getting up quickly and walking to the door. "Be back in a moment." He shut the door behind him and rolled his eyes. Luna looked up at him and smiled. He looked away from her. After what he had gone through with Umbridge, he didn't want to see anyone smile for that day.  
"Want to visit me sometime over this lovely vacation we've been granted?" she asked insouciantly.  
"What? Lovely vaca—it's not lovely! Practically all the professors are an inch from death!"  
"Okay," she replied. Harry gaped in disbelief. How could someone be so nonchalant? He began to shake his head. "As I was saying, well rather asking, want to visit me?"  
"I can't," he replied rapidly. "Dumbledore forbade me to go anywhere. I have to stay at—"  
"Home?"  
"If you can call it that." There was a pause in the conversation as Luna frowned and grabbed her chin pensively.  
"So you can't leave at all?" Harry nodded his head yes. "Well that put a stopper on my plans. I was wondering if you would like to visit so we could plan our visit to the Ministry of Magic. You know, to go to the veil and talk to Sirius." Harry suddenly forgave her for her disinterest in the professors.  
"Thanks a bunch Dumbledore," he mumbled under his breath. "This would have been the perfect time to go and do that! Perhaps I could sneak out."  
"No I wouldn't want you to do that," she told him in a matter-of- factly tone. "If you were caught then we definitely wouldn't be able to go at all. Best to play it safe. We'll do it when we go back."  
"During school? When would we have the time?"  
"During our Christmas break silly," she laughed. He himself grinned as Luna started to crack up at her non-hilarious comment. The thought of the opportunity to be able to talk to Sirius again made him feel delighted. Then something strange happened to him. Time seemed to be going in slow motion as he watched Luna laugh. He began to think about all the times they had talked. Every conversation he had with her had always left him with a warm feeling. A feeling that when times grew cold and dark, always raining, that there was light; an opening in the barricade. His stomach fluttered and he fell out of his sudden trance. Harry's grin turned into a smile. He cast a glance into his compartment and felt a wee bit guilty for deserting Ron and Hermione (although he was certain that Ron wasn't too bothered by the fact that he had Hermione to himself). Luna's rapturous chuckles had simmered down to the point where she was able to breathe again and she wiped the tears out of her orb like eyes.  
"Whoo," she hooted, "that was a good one Harry."  
"Um—thanks?"  
"We'll have to keep in touch during this break. Maybe we could discuss our plans through owl mail," she suggested, her eyes twinkling. Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets to try and keep himself from blushing the slightest bit. Why am I blushing? he asked himself.  
"Yeah okay, if my uncle will let me that is." They stood facing each other in an awkward silence. Luna just smiled and stared at him. Doesn't she ever blink? Harry thought nervously. "Well I better be getting back now. Don't want them to get suspicious," he said finally. Harry slipped his hand behind his back and slowly started to open the door. He waved goodbye to Luna who waved vigorously and then slipped back inside the compartment.  
"Done snogging already?" Ron teased as he looked down at his nonexistent watch.  
"No," Harry answered, a menacing smile creeping across his face. "I was waiting for you two to finish." Ron's face turned the color of his hair as Hermione began to laugh. "How rude," Harry joined in on the laughter, "laughing at Ron like that." Due to his conversation with Luna, Harry was in a good mood even Malfoy couldn't discourage. Hermione wasn't called in for Head Girl duty and neither Ron for prefect. The trio had a joyous ride home.  
  
"WHEN I SAY TO LEAVE NOW I MEAN IT POTTER!" Uncle Vernon hollered impatiently over to Harry. Uncle Vernon's face was so purple with rage even his mustache looked red.  
"Just a minute! I have to say goodbye!" Harry yelled back. "Have a nice holiday Ron," he said, shaking Ron's hand. "I expect numerous amounts of letters telling me all that's going on."  
"Don't worry Harry. I'll send you a letter a day for as long as this holiday is," Ron smiled back, then lowering his voice so that only Harry could hear he said, "If they give you trouble lemme know. I'll get Fred and George to put them back in line."  
"You can count on it," he chuckled patting Ron on the back.  
"Oh there's my mum! I'll be right back guys just let me put my trunk away," Ron said as he dashed away as best as he could with a heavy trunk. Harry and Hermione watched him go before turning towards each other.  
"'Bye Hermione," Harry started to say to the floor rather than her face. There was silence. Harry could hear Ron greeting his mum and shoving his trunk into the car. He finally lifted his head to meet her eyes. "I'll miss—"  
"NOW BOY! YOU BETTER COME NOW!" Uncle Vernon roared. "I'M GOING TO DRIVE OFF WITHOUT YOU!"  
"Just one moment! I'm almost done!" he shouted back, holding up his index finger to indicate one more minute. As he turned back to Hermione, she pulled him into a hug and rested her chin on his shoulder. "I'll—um—miss you," he finished in a surprised manner.  
"I'll miss you too and Harry," her quivering voice began, "don't worry so much. You've been too stressed out about everything."  
"I can't help but be stressed out!" he said fiercely, beginning to pull away. "Sirius is gone, Umbridge is back, and the fact that my life must include murder is—"  
"About that," Hermione interrupted him, pulling him back into the hug, "what will come, will come—" she stopped. Harry heard her take in short stabs of breath to prevent herself from crying, but it was helpless. "And—and," she began to sniffle.  
"And we'll meet it when it does," Harry finished softly for her. Hermione stopped her hyperventilating and pulled away to look at him. Her tear filled eyes, which was so cliché to Harry by this point, gazed into his and he felt a painful twinge in his heart.  
He looked away.  
"How'd you know?" she asked, awestruck. Harry shrugged and pulled away completely from her now that Ron was running back towards them. Hermione turned her back to him, wiped her eyes dry, and then did an about face, smiling at Ron.  
"Everything alright between you two?" Ron asked, sensing the tension.  
  
"Yep!" Hermione answered quite bubbly. "Just exchanging our last farewells. I hope you have a nice holiday Harry. Write if you need anything."  
"Yeah. . .okay. . .thanks. I will," he forced a smile. What Hermione had told him had really sunk in. Hagrid had told him the same thing at the end of term, but he couldn't help thinking of it. Murder was such a major part of his future and no one seemed to understand how big of a role it played. The desire to have someone understand him was stronger than in Dumbledore's office. He inhaled deeply and looked at his two best friends. Ron and Hermione had always been by his side, had always been there for him.  
But now he felt more isolated than ever. It wasn't the company; it was the comprehension that lacked in their relationship. He exhaled.  
"You two have a fantastic holiday," he hugged the two of them one last time and then retreated to an irritated Uncle Vernon. He dragged his trunk, but over the scraping sound it caused, he could hear Ron and Hermione's fleeting footsteps.  
The silent car ride he had imagined on the train was the only difference in his prediction. Uncle Vernon complained about the reason for sending Harry home. He argued that the professors were probably faking sick to gain a little time off of their own. He yelled at Harry for having to leave work when an unexpected, large order of drills had just come in. Just when Harry thought his ranting and raving was over, Uncle Vernon started up again.  
"And another thing, now we won't be able to take our vacation! In just three days, Dudley would have been on holiday for two weeks! I planned a fabulous vacation to for THREE to the Bahamas! Now I'm going to have to cancel that trip!"  
"SORRY THAT ME LIVING IS SUCH AN INCONVENIENCE TO YOU!" Harry roared, finally unable to put up with it any longer.  
"DON'T YOU RAISE YOUR VOICE TO ME BOY! YOU DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH OF A LET DOWN IT IS TO CANCEL THIS TRIP!"  
"Don't you talk to me about let downs!"  
"DON'T YOU DARE TALK TO ME THAT W—"  
"YOU, AUNT PETUNIA, AND THAT FILTHY PIG YOU CALL A SON, KNOW NOTHING OF LET DOWNS!" Harry screamed, releasing somewhat of all the blind rage he had built up in him. Uncle Vernon slammed on the breaks and stared at him in shock. His eyes looked like that of a mad cow and his nostrils flared.  
"I—cannot—believe—the way—you—just—spoke to me," Uncle Vernon hissed.  
"If canceling your stupid trip is the biggest let down you've experienced than you know nothing of disappointment!"  
"Oh I know of disappointment boy," Uncle Vernon growled dangerously. "The biggest let down, the event that made me the most depressed I had ever been in my life, was having you show up on our doorstep!" Harry felt his heart pounding in his chest, dying at the very moment Uncle Vernon said those words. His throat immediately felt clogged and foggy. He felt like throwing up. Dumbledore really couldn't force anyone to love anyone. All he could do was influence, and Vernon Dursley was not convinced. Harry now understood what Dumbledore had meant about the word hate in the hospital wing. It seemed so bland on the surface, but it was much deeper, much more capable of tearing your flesh and ripping your heart to pieces than any other word. Harry was crushed. He had known it all along, but never really occurred to him how much the Dursleys hated him.  
They pulled into the driveway. A question came so quickly to Harry that he didn't have time to reword it and just blurted it out.  
"Why do you hate me so much?"  
"Because you are a freak," Uncle Vernon spat coldly. He started to unbuckle.  
"That's your best reason? Because I'm different? You are pathetic Dursley. I can't even believe we are related."  
"What did you say?"  
"I mean, most families would be proud to have a son or daughter that possessed the ability I have. But you are not like other families who are muggle parents, but have a unique son or daughter. You're not like them, which in some ways, makes you a freak. For that, I hate you. Dudley is a freak, but you love him!" Harry fired back, fury burning his throat.  
"HOW DARE YOU! MY SON IS NOT A FREAK!"  
"Oh yeah? Anything that fat and still able to have a beating heart and unclogged arteries is freak! But you know what I don't understand? You two are freaks, but not once have I ever regretted showing up on your doorstep! Thank you for helping me realize that at least I have a place to go!" With hot tears in his eyes, Harry ripped the seatbelt off his chest and got out of the car. He found Dudley's baseball bat lying in the grass and picked it up. Slowly, he retreated to the passenger's side of the car. Uncle Vernon's eyes grew big as Harry aimed the bat at the window. Harry swung the bat with all his might. The window cracked in various places. He swung again and it all came shattering down. The glass exploded from the frame and littered the passenger seat, the car floor, and the ground. Harry poked his head into the broken frame, chest rising up and down in furious attempts to catch a decent breath.  
"Freak!" he cried. "You freak." Uncle Vernon's mouth was gaping. His eyes searched Harry's face for an apology, but Harry was not remorseful for his actions. Instead, he pulled his face out of the window frame and threw the baseball bat into the street where it landed with a clang. He stormed inside.  
Feeling somewhat better now that he had gotten that off his chest, he grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and drank big, lung gulps. Aunt Petunia ran into the kitchen and came to a halt at his appearance.  
"What was that noise?" she demanded, but before Harry could answer, Uncle Vernon had burst throw the door with shards of glass on his sports jacket. Aunt Petunia gasped and nearly fainted at Vernon's entrance. This is really my best protection? Harry thought, sickly amusing himself with the question. Uncle Vernon's temples pulsated.  
"YOU—ROOM," was all he could force out. He pointed towards the stairs, keeping his protuberant, crazed eyes fixed upon Harry's neck. "NOW!" he roared. Harry dashed up the stairs, taking them in threes, but froze by his door. There was smoke coming out of it. He burst inside.  
There was music blaring. Three boys, whom Harry did not know, where singing loudly along with the song. Another five where sitting on his bed smoking, and Dudley was in the center of the room, telling jokes over the noise. There were empty beer bottles and stains scattered all over his floor. Hedwig's cage had been overturned and the photo album Hagrid had given him at the end of his first year was torn in half. The anger he had let go by smashing the car window had swelled in the pit of his stomach.  
"GET OUT OF HERE!" he yelled. No one noticed his presence. He was surprised that Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia hadn't come up and request that the music be turned down a bit. Harry decided to do them a favor.  
He walked around the cigarette butts and beer bottles to where the stereo sat blasting a song about anarchy in England. He could just turn the music off, or simply turn it down to the point that they would hear him, but Harry was known for smashing things when he was upset. He lifted the stereo above his head and slammed it onto the hard wood floor. The music died with the sound of a fly buzzing. All conversation stopped abruptly. Harry smirked devilishly and knowing there was going to be a discrepancy, stealthily slid his wand from his robes and into a drawer so he wouldn't be tempted. Dudley's massive figure revolved slowly to meet Harry's somewhat skinny one.  
"What do you think your doing?" Dudley yelled. Harry's smile widened.  
"I'm not doing anything," he shrugged. "It's already been done." He watched in an amused manner as Dudley's face managed to pull his lips and double chins into a threatening look. Dudley punched a fist into his open hand and began to advance on Harry. His posse of what looked like a bunch of Crabbe and Goyles formed a crescent shape around Dudley like a pack of wolves around their leader.  
"That stereo cost my parents a lot of money. Oh you're going to pay, but not with your money, with your life! Let's get 'im boys!" Dudley snarled.  
"Ha!" Harry laughed in his face. "Can't take me yourself eh Ickle Diddykins?" Instead of an offended reaction, Harry received guffaws from Dudley and his gang.  
"I can take you anytime I please. I mean, look at you," he chuckled, punching one of his cronies in the arm in a friendly sort of way. "But, I just want to make sure you get beaten to a bloody pulp. Kill 'im." Someone slugged Harry from the right and sent his glasses flying. Harry stumbled backwards and tripped over Hedwig's fallen cage.  
"Heh heh heh. Look at him. He's like a new born deer. Can't even stand on his own two legs," the gang member who punched him laughed. Harry began to pull himself up, but the throb of his injured jaw made it extra difficult. The boys took a step closer and stared down at him, all smiling. Harry pulled himself up and looked back at them. Then with the swiftness he had developed due to Quidditch, he knocked Dudley back with a powerful uppercut. Someone tried to catch Harry off his guard by attacking from the far left, but seeing him out of the corner of his eye, Harry ducked. As soon as he had squatted down to avoid the blow, he felt someone's knee come in contact with his nose.  
Harry fell backwards and smacked his head on the ground. His nose started gushing blood from both nostrils. It trickled down onto his lips and seeped onto his tongue. His taste buds found the taste of blood pleasant, and he regained strength and motivation to taste more. With cat like grace, he flung himself on a gang member with a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth and brought him to the ground. He slugged the guy's chin so hard that his cigarette went flying and his knuckles started to bleed. The other members rushed to his aide. They pulled Harry off him and began to kick him everywhere. Someone kicked his shins, another kicked his hip. Dudley stomped on his chest, crushing his ribs.  
Harry's breathing became shallow as the pain Umbridge had installed fluttered back to life. His fingers started twitching, and he winced to try and make it stop, but it grew and grew, pounding throughout him like a hammer on a rail road spike. One of the members wearing what looked like a black army beret saw Harry's hand flailing. He waltzed over to it and smiled down upon Harry. He raised his foot over his hand, and froze it, evil tinting his eyes.  
"Do it Gordon!" the gang member Harry had flung himself on cheered. "Crush his lil fingers into dust!" The gang member smiled a bloody smile at Gordon. Harry had apparently knocked out a tooth.  
"I dunno Piers," Gordon laughed. "'Sup to Dud. Whaddya say Dud? Should I break his hands?" Dudley smiled maliciously and then turned to Gordon.  
"Nah," he growled, punching Gordon playfully in the arm. "I'll take it from here. Help me stand him up though." Gordon and Piers hooked theirs arms under Harry's arm pits. He felt too weak to struggle as they set him up for Dudley. Harry had suffered much more pain than a beating from Dudley. He had suffered much worse emotional pain as well. A bloody nose and a few broken ribs weren't going to stop him. Dudley had him pinned against the wall. He wrapped his chubby fingers around Harry's throat.  
"Can we let go now?" Piers asked. Dudley nodded slowly. His tongue hung out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he brought his fist behind his ear. Thinking fast, Harry pulled the stunt Malfoy had when they fought on the train. He grabbed Dudley's forearm and swung his foot into his lower midriff. Dudley crumbled to the floor in pain, gasping for breath. Harry did the same now that he had regained possession of his windpipe.  
"You hit below the belt!" one of the members yelled.  
"Thought—you—said you—could take me," Harry panted, scrambling to get up and wiping his bloody nose on his sleeve. "I was out—numbered—nine—to one—and still," he paused to catch his breath, looking around at all the surprised and angry expressions, "you couldn't beat me." Gordon picked up a beer bottle and smashed it on the desk. With the sharp, jagged ends towards Harry, he charged him, but Dudley grabbed his pants leg.  
"Don't," he breathed. "I can beat my own cousin." Dudley slowly rose to his full height. He swaggered over to Harry and breathed in his face. Harry smelt alcohol on his breath and turned his head away from the foul odor. Dudley clutched Harry's jaw and directed it straight forward again. More quickly and with much more force than he had ever used, Dudley threw a punch. Harry ducked in time. Dudley struck the wall and caused part of it to cave in. He yelled in frustration and pain and looked down at his bruised and bloody knuckles. The gang members swelled around to see if they were broken or not.  
Harry smiled and began to pick himself up. His ribs were hammering his chest, his jaw throbbed, and practically every inch on his body ached, but that couldn't take away the satisfaction of beating Dudley. The only thing that could was Uncle Vernon who happened to walk in at the racket the impact of Dudley's fist on the dry wall had made. Harry's heart sunk into his stomach. Here it comes, he thought nervously.  
"WHAT THE DEVIL—LOOK AT MY WALL! LOOK AT MY WALL!" Harry groaned under his breath and gave up trying to stand. "HAVEN'T YOU BROKEN ENOUGH THINGS FOR ONE DAY?" Uncle Vernon roared so mightily, the house shook. "D'YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THIS IS GOING TO COST TO REPAIR? I DON'T HINK YOU HAVE THE MONEY TO DO SO DO YOU?" Harry looked up at Uncle Vernon and shook his head apologetically.  
"No I don't have the money," he mumbled gravely. Uncle Vernon began pulling at his hair and grunting inaudible words.  
"He made me smash the wall Dad! He ducked when I was gonna deck him for smashing my stereo!" Dudley whined. "Look at it! That can't be fixed! It's a total wreck!"  
"YOU BROKE HIS STEREO TOO? D'YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THAT COST? WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WITH YOU BOY? WHAT—AM—I—GOING—TO—DO?" He marched over to Harry and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. He picked him up and flung him against the wall. Harry's head whip lashed into the caved in part of the wall and broke it in. He felt his head hit something cold and metallic. Wiggling himself free from Uncle Vernon's grip, Harry turned his head and saw that it was a small refrigerator buried in the wall. Uncle Vernon let go of Harry due to the utterly perplexing idea of a refrigerator in a wall.  
"You are pathetic," Harry said shaking his head in disbelief. "You can't stuff your face enough so you buried a miniature 'fridge in my wall! That was pretty stupid Dud, how were you gonna get to it?" Harry noticed that Uncle Vernon wondered the same thing because he turned to face Dudley with his mouth hanging open.  
"I. .I don't know what you—you're talking about!" Dudley stammered. "I wasn't born when this house was built. I couldn't have poss. .possibly buried a refrigerator in a wall."  
"Everyone go home," Uncle Vernon ordered. Ecstasy filled the gang members' eyes, being able to escape trouble so easily. They grumbled goodbyes to Dudley as they ran past and out the front door. Harry turned back to the refrigerator and pulled open the door. Chunks of ice tumbled out as the door became ajar. The whole refrigerator was filled to the top with ice. Harry started to pull some of the chunks out to find anything else that could have been hidden. He removed one rather large chunk on the second rack and found a vial. The vial was closed with an opal stopper and came to a point at the end. Out of curiosity, Harry touched the point on the end of the vial. It pricked his finger and added to his bloody appearance.  
Inside the vial was a brick-red substance that bubbled slightly as Harry turned it right side up again. He felt a papery label on the other side and slowly turned it so he could read it. His eyes read the words, but he reread them to make sure he was reading right. After the fifth time he read the label, his breath caught in his throat and he almost dropped the vial. He clutched it in his hand so hard that his bloody knuckles turned white and the glass almost exploded in his hand. The label read Lily's Blood.  
"How twisted can you get?" Harry panted through gritted teeth. "Why would you do something like this? COULDN'T YOU LET HER REST IN PEACE?" he yelled at them, trembling with rage.  
"What are you talking about?" Uncle Vernon asked sternly. Harry shuffled around and shoved the vial in his face.  
"What is this all about?" he asked calmly, eyes darting from Uncle Vernon to Dudley. His lip quivered and he clenched and unclenched his injured jaw. "What kind of twisted people are you?"  
"MUM!" Dudley yelled. "MUMMY! C'MERE! C'MERE QUICK! HARRY'S GONE MAD!" A few minutes later they heard Aunt Petunia dashing up the stairs. She ran into Harry's room and placed her arms around Dudley. She looked frantic and disturbed by Dudley's broken knuckles and the state Harry's room was in.  
"What is it Duddsters? What is—?" Harry thrust the vial in her face also. She cowered away from it and shielded her eyes. "TAKE IT AWAY! GO AWAY!"  
"Why is this here? Why would you do this to my mum?" he asked her, rage growing up from his stomach, burning his throat, and shimmering out his eyes. "Why did you steal her blood?" They all stared unblinkingly at Harry who grew so angry with them; he bit his lip to keep from destroying something else. A heartsick feeling washed over him. "Answer me!" he demanded.  
Aunt Petunia looked at Uncle Vernon. Her mouth moved up and down trying to form words, but she was unsuccessful. She flopped down to the floor and started sobbing. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed big sobs, gulping down air before another set of tears flooded down her face. No one knelt down to comfort her.  
"It was to protect us from Voldemort! We had to do it ever since you came here!" she sobbed, pounding the ground with her fist in a lugubrious way. "Dumbledore—Dumbledore said that home is where ever the mother's blood is!" Harry began pacing back and forth and grabbed his hair by the roots.  
"You took it literally?" he screamed. "You're more stupid than he is!" Harry cried out, jerking a thumb in Dudley's direction.  
"Dumbledore said—"  
"What Dumbledore meant was that you had Lily's blood in you because you are her sister! That's why I had to go home to you each summer because you are blood related!" he scolded, running his fingers through his hair. Petunia looked up at Harry and began to shake her head, weeping dry weeps. She had no more tears to cry.  
"We're not blood related. I was adopted!" Harry froze. He stopped in mid comb through his already matted hair. "I was adopted!" she sobbed.  
"Adopted?" Uncle Vernon asked incredulously. "Why didn't you tell me you were adopted?"  
"I didn't," she cried into her hands, "I didn't want anyone to find out about the blood!"  
"Yeah. . .well you blew your cover you filth," Harry spat heading towards the door and tucking the vial in his robes pocket.  
"Where do you think you're going?" Uncle Vernon asked. "You're not going anywhere until this is sorted out!"  
"What's left to sort out Dursley?" Harry shouted. "I don't need you guys anymore! I have been lied to all my life by people I'm not even related too! You even fooled Dumbledore! I have my protection right here in my pocket! Where ever I go, she'll be there! I'm leaving and never coming back!" He narrowed his eyes at Aunt Petunia whose sobs had turned to sniffles. "YOU CALLED MY MUM A FREAK! WHO'S THE FREAK NOW?"  
Harry slammed the door shut. He slammed it shut for the last time in his life. He went back to the glass of water he had poured before being sent upstairs and finished it in one gigantic gulp. The vial was cool against his leg. He pulled it out and brought it clutched in his fist to his forehead. He was disgusted at the thought that Aunt Petunia had drawn blood from his mother's dead body. Didn't she go through enough? his mind screamed at Petunia.  
"Oh Mum," he sighed, "I'm sorry." A single tear fell onto the vial and plopped off from the tip of it and onto the linoleum counter. Why am I crying? I should be crying with joy. I don't have to live with the Dursleys anymore and I'll always have my mother's blood to protect me! Stop crying, he ordered himself. He kissed the cold, glass vial, grabbed his trunk, and set out the door. "Voldemort," Harry snarled heroically, "come and get me!" 


	13. Broken Bindings

13. Broken Bindings  
  
The door shut slowly as if questioning Harry if he was making the right decision. He turned his back to it and did not move until the door clicked shut, sealing the deal. It was then that Harry realized that he had left the torn photo album in Dudley's room. As much as he enjoyed looking through it, he couldn't go back. Going back was too much of a forgiving gesture.  
Harry had left Hedwig at Hogwarts, thinking it would be better for her to stay until he came back, but was now becoming aware of the fact that he did not have a way to contact anyone. He began to tug his trunk along the path towards the park where he had spent so many summer days before his fifth year. He could hear the movement of glass at the bottom of the trunk; the last remnants of Sirius's mirror. He heaved a sigh and tried to shut it out of his mind.  
"You know what Harry? Don't be so disgusted," he said to himself. "You are never going to have a normal school year. You never were. Doomed from day one," he added with a small smile. "I shoulda known. Should have known." Holding this conversation with himself gained him a few stares from the neighbors of Number Four Privet Drive. They had stopped raking the leaves in their yard, or froze as they bent over to get the two-day-old newspaper and watched as he dragged his enormous trunk to an unknown destination. Harry ignored them. They had no idea of his complicated world. Unconsciously, he placed a protective hand over the pocket in which the vial was in.  
The park came into view and Harry was glad to find it unoccupied by the rest of Dudley's gang. He dragged his trunk through the sand and sat down on a swing suspended by rusty chain links. Slowly he swung back and forth, letting the shock of the Dursley house sink in.  
"What do you think your doing?"  
"Huh? Who's—Mrs. Figg!" Harry said, jumping out of his swing at the voice behind him. She rushed over to him and placed her hands on her hips.  
"What's this?" she asked, pointing at the trunk.  
"I'm leaving the Dursleys."  
"What?" she gasped. "You can't do that! Dumbledore—"  
"Dumbledore doesn't know something he really should. I need to tell him and plus," he paused, staring back down at the direction of the house, "I don't need them anymore."  
"Are you kidding me? Of course you need them! They're your best protection against Voldemort! Now you get back home and mail him this urgent news!"  
"I can't. I left Hedwig at Hogwarts."  
"Well my owl shall feel up to it," she said hastily. "Come on now."  
"No Mrs. Figg. You don't understand. I can't go back. Dumbledore would understand. He'd let me leave if he new why. I really must speak to him in person."  
"You're always gettin' yourself into trouble," she mumbled, thinking that Harry couldn't hear her. "What with the dementors last year and all. I'll be supposin' you'll want me to take you to Grimmuald Place then?"  
"Yes please."  
She sighed.  
"Alright then. My house isn't too far away from here so I believe you can manage to pull your trunk there. I warn you now Harry, despite how urgent this may be, Dumbledore is not going to be all that happy."  
"Oh I know that Mrs. Figg," Harry answered as he started lifting up his trunk. "What I have to tell him is going to make him upset anyway." As they started walking towards Mrs. Figg's house, the eyes that followed Harry on his way to the park were now following him again. Mrs. Figg didn't take notice of it and instead mumbled to Harry to hurry up. In a short while, her house came into view. Harry figured it was her house when he saw three or four cats in the yard, pouncing on leaves being blown in the wind. When Mrs. Figg walked up the driveway, they swarmed to her feet and began to curl around her ankles.  
"They're hungry," she told Harry. "I don't know why. I just fed them. If they eat any more they're going to look like furry pigs rather than cute little kittens." An image of Dudley came to Harry's mind. "Come on in," she ushered, unlocking the door.  
Mrs. Figg's house had changed since he had last seen it quite a few years ago. The walls had a dusty appearance to them and there were black and white muggle photographs cluttering the coffee table in between two couches. In the corner, lit by the sunlight spilling in from the window above it, was a faded blue armchair with a gray cat curled on the seat. The inside smelt of vanilla and daisies. It was a very nice change from the Dursley's house. He wondered why he always hated having tea at Mrs. Figg's house when he was much younger.  
"Go ahead and place your trunk by the fireplace. If anyone's home over there, we're going to arrive by floo. I got connected to the network just last month."  
"Oh okay," Harry said, still taking in the comfort of Mrs. Figg's house. Maybe I could return here every summer, he thought as he placed his trunk by the hearth. She came up behind him with what looked like a miniature ceramic pot. She scooped a handful of floo powder into her hand, tossed it into the fireplace, stuck her head inside, and demanded Grimmuald Place. Harry watched as she craned her neck to the left and right, obviously looking in through Grimmuald's fire place. She spotted someone (it wasn't clear who due to the roaring flames) and chatted for a brief minute with them. Harry heard her muffled voice offer a goodbye and she pulled her head out from the furnace.  
"You're in luck. Moody, Remus, and Tonks are there. The others are at the ministry keeping an eye out. One of the three at home is contacting Dumbledore as we speak. Now," she said as she lifted Harry's trunk with a grunt and placed it inside the furnace, "get in. We don't need to waste time. Here—alright, now that you have your floo powder, go!"  
"What about you?" he asked.  
"Someone's going to have to be here when you get back now Harry."  
"I am not going back!" Mrs. Figg laughed somewhat evilly at Harry's outburst.  
"We'll see about that. Off you go now!" she turned her back on him and walked into the kitchen calling her numerous amounts of cats. They ran to her, except for the one in the chair which was too lazy to move, and began curling around her legs as she opened two or three cans of cat food. He threw his floo powder onto the ground and shouted, "Grimmuald Place!" Bright green flashed in front of him and Mrs. Figg's house was gone.  
His trunk came out first and landed with a gigantic thud. Harry came tumbling after it and landed face first onto the ground with a sickening smack. Uneven footsteps hobbled towards him and stopped in front of his broken glasses that had landed three feet ahead of him. A wheezing, ragged laugh came from above his head.  
"Graceful landing Potter," Harry heard Moody growl. "It was also a nice way to make an entrance. . .with a bang," he started laughing. Harry sat himself up plunged his hand inside his pocket to make sure the vial wasn't broken. To his relief, it was perfectly fine. He then reached blindly for his glasses. He felt a rough hand hook under his arm pit and jerk him up into a standing position. "Nice black eye ya got there. Did the trip here give you all those injuries?"  
"No I—" Harry began, but was cut off.  
"That Harry Mad-Eye?" a female voice called from around the corner. Harry recognized it as Tonks's voice and saw her blurry shape come into view. He got down on his knees again and began to grope for his glasses. "Here let me help you," she said and muttered reparo. Harry heard his glasses fix themselves and felt them being pushed into his hand.  
"Thanks," he said, slipping them on. Moody stood in front of him with a bizarre grin on his face and his magical eye whizzing around in his socket. He offered a hand and Harry shook it gingerly. Tonks was dressed the most strangely he had ever seen her. Her purple hair was replaced by a neon green Mohawk that practically touched the ceiling. The shirt she wore was sleeveless and torn in various places and she had four seagulls perched on her shoulder. Her pants were like his denim jeans, only it looked as if splotches of bleach and been spilled all over them. "Acid wash," Tonks laughed at Harry's puzzled expression. "It's a muggle thing." "What about the birds?"  
"Flock of seagulls. I couldn't decide if I wanted the hair style or the real thing. Eventually I chose the Mohawk and decided to get the birds. Adds to my lovely appearance eh?"  
"You're a nut case," Moody snorted. "Even wizards are scared of you. It's not just muggles anymore." Tonks stuck her tongue out at Moody and turned back to Harry.  
"Good to see you again," she smiled, offering her hand.  
"You too," he replied. "Both of you, but where is—"  
"Hello Harry," Lupin greeted soberly as he entered the room with his hands casually in his pockets. Lupin looked like he had at the beginning of Harry's third year; tired and sickly. His lips were chapped and his eyes were pink with exhaustion, but even so, he managed to welcome Harry with a smile.  
"Hi Professor."  
"How have you been?" he asked, taking his hands out of his pockets slowly.  
"I don't know really. You?"  
"Alright I guess," Lupin shrugged. One of Tonks's seagulls squawked and landed on Harry's shoulder. It nipped his ear affectionately and then began to caw loudly.  
"Alright! ALRIGHT!" Tonks shouted at it. "Excuse me for a second boys, they need some exercise."  
"Hopefully they'll be hunted down. Those damn things are so annoying, especially at night," Moody whispered to Harry. "I'll take your trunk up to your room. Make yourself at home."  
"Thanks," Harry said. Moody waved a hand, dismissing his gratitude and began to haul his trunk up the stairs.  
"Let's go into the kitchen Harry," Lupin said. "I want to talk to you for a few minutes if you don't mind."  
"Okay," said Harry as he followed Lupin into the kitchen and pulled up a chair to the kitchen table. Lupin looked at him and then hung his head and sighed. "What's wrong?"  
"I keep reliving it over and over," Lupin confessed lifting his head up slowly with his eyes closed. "Over and over throughout the night. I can hardly sleep. I guess the realization of it has finally sunken in. I'm terrified Harry. Terrified out of my mind."  
"Terrified of what?"  
"Of it all coming to an end. I'm not scared for my life though," Lupin said, still looking at the table. "I'm scared for yours." Harry nodded. "Harry, you are the closest thing I have to James and Sirius now. I lost them both to Voldemort. I can't lose you. I cannot let them down like that. I know it sounds selfish me saying 'I can't do this and I can't do that,' but I lost my two greatest friends in the world. I just can't afford to lose you too. That's why you have to go back to the Dursleys. You may not like it there, but it's safer than out here."  
"It's not safer there any more," he sighed, placing his hand on his pocket and holding the blood vial tightly. Suddenly, a door banged open and heavy footfalls stormed inside. Moody paused in the middle of the staircase with his wand drawn, and Tonks ran into the room with her seagulls flying in after her. Lupin jumped up startled too.  
"Oh," Moody snarled. "It's only Albus." He tucked his wand back into his robes walked down the rest of the steps.  
"Where is Harry?" Dumbledore asked gravely.  
"I think he's in the kitchen with Remus." Dumbledore walked into the kitchen and beamed down dangerously at Harry. There was no smile upon his face. Lupin scurried off and brought back a chair for Dumbledore to sit in. He muttered a thank you, never taking his eyes off Harry. Harry became extremely aware of the presence of the vial.  
"Why are you here Harry?"  
"I really needed to talk to you," he answered, undaunted by Dumbledore's frightening mood. "I left Hedwig at school because I thought it'd be better for her."  
"But why did you come here to Grimmuald Place? You are putting everyone in the Order in danger and risking the exposure of our headquarters," he demanded sternly.  
"I didn't have anywhere else to go! I couldn't go to the Burrow because I didn't want to put the Weasleys in danger. At least the Order is prepared to fight."  
"Well you're lucky Harry," Lupin cut in. "The Weasleys just left." Moody and Tonks entered the kitchen also. Everyone stared down at Harry. He felt their eyes crawl on his skin like poisonous bugs. Unable to withstand it any longer, he tore the vial out from his pocket and placed it in the middle of the table.  
"This is why I'm here!" he said, pointing to the vial. "This is my big protection from Voldemort that the Dursleys were supposed to possess. This is my mum's blood!" Tonks gasped. Moody produced a low growl of a dog warning intruders. Lupin's eyes narrowed and Dumbledore looked like he had been hit in the face with a sack of potatoes.  
"What—?"  
"They had kept it in a refrigerator buried in the wall of my room," Harry told them as he thought spitefully of the Dursleys. "Petunia is adopted." There was a murmur of confusion.  
"She lied to me!" Dumbledore shouted, pounding his fist on the table. "She lied to face!" He ripped off his half-moon spectacles and placed his thumb and forefinger on the bridge of his nose and mumbled to himself. "She should've been in Azkaban!"  
"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "She's a muggle. She—she couldn't have gone to Azkaban." Dumbledore took a deep breath and held it. It wasn't until a few seconds later that he exhaled deeply and looked up at Harry. He could see the words forming inside Dumbledore's mind, but he apparently had trouble spitting them out.  
"She is a muggle," Harry stated again.  
"No Harry," Dumbledore spat angrily. "She's not a muggle. She's a squib." Tonks clasped her hands over her mouth and stifled a gasp. Lupin took a step back in surprise and Moody did not move at all.  
"What? What do you—I don't believe—prove it!" he sputtered. Tonks nodded lightly in agreement with Harry's command. "Petunia Evans a witch? I don't believe it either Albus!" Lupin agreed with Harry. Moody still did not move at all. They watched as Dumbledore placed his glasses back on his nose and pushed them up stiffly. He sighed.  
"It makes sense if you look at it closely enough. The words she used to describe Lily, the cruelty she inflicted on you Harry. Are you sure you even need me to explain?" No one said anything. "Very well," Dumbledore said, his voice echoing throughout the house. "It will be harder to prove now that I have learned she is adopted. My only explanation might sound like I just thought of it, well, because I just did. However, I have reason to believe that it could be correct. My thought is this: Petunia was born to one muggle parent and one magical parent thus resulting in being born a squib. If you want to delve into genetics and the probability of it then go right ahead, but since only one of her parents could have been a wizard or witch, perhaps she only inherited half the ability to perform magic."  
"That would mean that her muggle characteristics would have to cancel out the gene for magical capability," Moody said at last. "I don't think you can inherit half of something. It's either all or nothing."  
"What he means Mad-Eye is that she didn't have the other chromosome to become fully magical," Tonks corrected him.  
"No that's not true Tonks," Lupin cut in. "Because if what you are suggesting is true, then all babies born to a muggle and magical parent would be squibs."  
"Then how do you explain squibs in the first place?"  
"You three please!" Dumbledore shouted at them. "It is a difficult concept to understand. One in which I do not specialize in. We'll just have to accept the fact that some how squibs are born and—"  
"Can we just get back on track please?" Harry requested loudly. The four of them looked at him with the faintest expression of offense on their faces, but nodded and mumbled apologies.  
"Getting back on track," Dumbledore grunted before continuing, "maybe her biological parents gave her up for adoption because she was not able to perform magic and looked at it as a birth defect or a disability. I honestly don't have the slightest sensible idea as to why she was put up for adoption so please don't argue about that."  
"But how do you personally know that she is a squib? For all I know, you could just be assuming all this," Harry stated, pulling the blood vial closer to him.  
"You asked me to prove she was a squib, not if I knew she was or not. If you had just asked me that, my answer would have been plain and simple. She told me so," he replied, making his fingers' ends meet. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Dumbledore beat him to his question. "How did I know her you ask? Well, Petunia was sick and tired of being looked down on as a failure for being a squib. Ever since the day she was born, she felt that everyone hated her because of her disability to perform magic. She was given up for adoption because she was a squib while Lily was always being praised for her magical achievements."  
"But why did they adopt her if they didn't want a squib?"  
"Petunia's parents didn't know that she was one Harry. Anyway, her hatred towards those who despised her grew and she withdrew from the magical world completely. It wasn't until she learned of the luxuries that Voldemort offered to those who would accompany him did she become a Death Eater. Voldemort accepted her because she was harmless. Because she was a squib, she didn't propose a threat to the rest of the wizarding world. What could she do anyway? She definitely couldn't give off one of the Unforgivables. However, because of her mild image, she was able to gather information and give it to Voldemort and his followers without falling under suspicion.  
"As the times grew more chaotic and more deaths occurred, it became much easier for Petunia to smuggle such important facts. But on the flip side, it became easier for aurors to catch her. We at the Order had some of the most precious documents and had to guard them with very high security and when she eventually tried to get them, we caught her."  
"It was Shacklebolt wadnn't?" Moody mumbled.  
"Yes," Lupin answered with an astonished gleam in his eye. "I just never knew who he was yelling at that night."  
"Indeed it was Kingsley Shacklebolt, but he did not know Petunia at that time."  
"So how did you know it was my aunt?" Harry asked. Dumbledore replied with a light shrug.  
"Lily went to Hogwarts and then your Prophecy came into my life. I went to her and told her about it and seeing how Voldemort preferred to settle business, I asked her if she had any siblings or relatives. She asked me what I had meant by that. I told her. I told her Voldemort wasn't going to just push her and James aside while he tried to kill the one that had the power to vanquish him. I told her that he would most likely kill them first before trying to kill Harry. I told her that if the Prophecy was true, she would most likely die. I—"  
"What did she do?"  
"She started to cry like any person who knew that death might be coming for them. But as she cried, she placed her hands on her very pregnant belly. I think she was crying for you Harry, not for herself. Through sobs she listed two names. One was Perseus and the other was Petunia. Now at that time, we didn't know that Severus had changed his name or that he was an active Death Eater. Lily told me that he had moved out to live by himself as soon as his 7th year was over and wished us luck finding him. The rest of the Evans family had not heard from him since his move. She told me that they had sent him Christmas cards requesting that he return home for the holidays, but were unsuccessful in persuading him. In fact, she thought he might have died. If she only knew, but anyway, during my conversation with Lily, Kingsley was questioning Petunia. As I was about to ask Lily about the other name she had listed, Fawkes came soaring over towards me and dropped a letter onto the table between us. It was a simple message. 'Her name is Petunia Evans,' it read. I stared at Lily and boy, how her emerald eyes sparkled with tears. I just couldn't bare to let her see the letter. Knowing her sister was a Death Eater would devour her heart even more. I left.  
"Petunia looked up at me from behind the desk she sat at and squinted through the light that illuminated her terrified face. Kingsley left the room after I told him it was to be a private conversation and guarded the door from the outside. I began to yell at her for all that she had done to terrorize the wizarding world. I shouted until I was hoarse and could shout no more. Sure she hadn't killed anyone, but she was killing her sister and her stolen information had killed others. I had caught her red handed; only her hands were pale and not covered in the blood of her victims. And it was because of her that I now appreciate and have more respect for squibs. I admit that I had the train of thought of many others who had not seen her as a threat, but I have learned and will not make that mistake again," Dumbledore stopped with a sigh. He drew in another long breath and sighed once more. A neighborhood dog barked in the distance. Harry felt an unpleasant sensation in the pit of his stomach knowing that for others, life was so normal and not twisted like his seemed to have become. The other wizards, the occupants of Privet Drive, and everyone else had no idea. He realized that over the summer and the tears he had shed had not only been for Sirius, but for the sudden death of his already waning childhood. He also felt a thin layer of guilt add to his unease at the thought of feeling that no one understood. No one could possibly understand. No one had been forced to grow up so quickly. It wasn't their fault.  
"Harry?" Tonks asked worriedly. "You okay?"  
"Oh—yeah. Yeah I'm—uh—I'm fine. I was just thinking," he answered while shifting his gaze onto Dumbledore's wizened face. "Are you okay Professor?" he asked stiffly.  
"Yes. It's just a little hard to relive these memories. So as I was saying, I talked to her about Lily, being a Death Eater, the Prophecy, and Azkaban. When I mentioned Azkaban, she dropped to her knees and begged me not to sentence her there. She began to cry and even bargained with me. She said that she would give us names of the Death Eaters she knew if we let her go free, but I was not about to be tricked. She would have listed off fake names and continued with her work. It was then that I made a very tough decision. I said that I'd leave it up to our aurors to find Death Eaters and that I had better plans for her. When I mentioned this, she grabbed the hem of my cloak and tugged it, almost tearing it, pleading to not be killed. To cease her hyper ventilating, I told her to let go and to sit down and that I was not going to kill her. As soon as she was seated I," he cleared his throat, "began to tell her about the Prophecy and that because of the fact that we were not able to contact Severus and she claimed she was a blood related sibling, that Harry would have to go home with her. She then smiled and asked if that was all. I said it wasn't. I said that she would have to be banished from the wizarding world if she did not want to go to Azkaban. I explained that she was never to return to our life and that she must live the life of a muggle or else I would have to do all I could to seek out Severus, send Harry there, and sentence her to life in Azkaban. Many used tissues later, she finally agreed. I had officially banned Petunia Evans from the wizarding world. Now why did I make her pretend to be a muggle? The ministry would detect magic in a muggle area if I had placed a secret-keeping charm around her house and our covers would have been blown. Harry, all those people I had watching over you and still do, weren't always just watching you. They were keeping an eye on Petunia as well to make sure she was in line and not exposing our scheme. That's why I've never told you until now, but with this blood vial—"  
"I can't believe you never told me!" he shouted angrily. "Why doesn't anyone tell me anything anymore? I can keep secrets! I wouldn't have told anyone!" "It was only to protect you."  
"Protect me from what? You haven't protected me from anything by making me believe lies! How am I supposed to believe anything anymore? What if I didn't really get my scar from Voldemort? What if I had fallen out of someone's arms as a baby and you all just lied to protect the person who dropped me?" "Harry, Harry, Harry. You know perfectly well that your scar is from Voldemort and that everything I've told you is true," Dumbledore said trying to get Harry to relax. "You never told me about my aunt being a squib!"  
"You never had a reason to know until now," Dumbledore replied softly.  
  
"Well what about my Prophecy? You never told me about that!" Harry  
yelled back.  
"I already told you that by not telling you about your Prophecy sooner  
was a serious flaw I made and that I am sorry. There is nothing I can  
do about it now."  
Harry swallowed and clenched his fists.  
"I just—I need to go—I need to be alone for a bit," he sputtered as he pushed past Lupin and Tonks. The tense silence followed him out of the room. He got to the foot of the stairs and listened for Dumbledore, Lupin, Moody, or Tonks, but no one was talking in the kitchen. He turned around quickly and went inside his room. Last summer came back to him in a flash. He had been upset with everyone for not telling him anything and now the last remnants of that anger were rekindling. Petunia was a squib. His Prophecy was to be fulfilled. His mother's own blood had been bottled up and enclosed in a mini refrigerator that was buried behind a wall. There was nothing he could do but except accept things for what they were and the way they were. Mentally tired and exhausted from an emotional overdose, Harry flumped onto his bed and closed his heavy eyelids. I refuse to go back, he thought before the comfort of the bed over powered him.  
It was a dreamless sleep. The kind of sleep that one would resort to when there are no other options left. In fact, it wasn't even a sleep. It was thinking things over while lying down with your eyes closed. Harry listened intently to the rise and fall of his own chest before sitting up again. There was too much circulating through his mind to shut his eyes to. With an aggravated sigh, he swung his legs over the side of his bed and stood up reluctantly. Harry could now hear Dumbledore, Lupin, Moody, and Tonks discussing something loudly in the kitchen. Then something caught his eye. It was flesh colored and peeked out from behind the desk in his room.  
"What the—?" he mumbled in surprise as he realized what it was. "A human ear!" Indeed a human ear lay at the base of the desk. He rushed over to it and picked it up. It felt like an ear, but there wasn't a cut or dried blood caked on where it looked like it was cut off. Then a smile spread across Harry's stressed out and tense face. "The Weasleys definitely were here," he laughed. The ear was attached by a thin, almost invisible string to another ear. Fred and George's Extendable Ears. The talking downstairs had paused for a split second and then started up again.  
"They're probably talking about other things I should know, but don't," he told the ear.  
Harry got an idea.  
He snuck over towards the foot of the stairs and crawled down stealthily to the point where he could place the ear close enough to the kitchen to hear. There was the brief crackle of static, and then the voices became clear.  
"What are you talking about?" Dumbledore said.  
"They're getting either more powerful or weaker as Voldemort becomes more human," Harry heard Moody reply.  
"That's preposterous! They're humans! They can't change like that!"  
"Well actually Albus, we have proof that may prove against you. We caught one lurking in front of Number 12 the other day and took him into the basement for questioning—"  
"You're keeping a man captivated and help prisoner? Are you mad? If the ministry found out and he wasn't one then—"  
"Calm down Albus. Calm down! You should have seen the sight of him and there was no mistakin' that he wasn't one. The dark mark was branded on his upper forearm. Tonks sat down there with him for hours recording his every move. Ain't that right Tonks?"  
"Yep. I left my clipboard in the basement if you wanted to see the notes Albus," she said.  
"He could have been a former Death Eater!" "You know, can't be too sure these days Professor," Lupin interjected conversationally. "How can you even be sure that you can trust someone when they say that they are a former Death Eater? As Voldemort grows stronger, our trust and patience becomes shorter and soon we'll all realize that you can't really trust anyone. We had to take him in Dumbledore, at least for our own safety." Harry heard Dumbledore sigh as he considered Lupin's explanation. Someone took a drink while another rapped their fingers lightly and without rhythm on the table.  
  
"I'll go with you to get those notes Nymphadora," Dumbledore answered a few seconds later. "However, I still strongly disagree that you had him locked up and didn't tell me until now. Next time you catch someone and intend on keeping them locked up in that drafty basement, please tell me immediately." Though only Dumbledore and Tonks had offered to get her notes, Harry heard the unmistakable screech of four chairs as Lupin and Moody rose too. Harry got up quickly and ran towards the tapestry of the Black's family tree. He hid behind it and watched as Tonks led the way to the entrance of basement. The four of them approached the portrait of Sirius's mum and opened the curtain cautiously.  
  
"Yes?" she asked gloomily instead of wailing.  
  
"Sorry to bother you Mrs. Black, but we need to go into the basement," Tonks said.  
  
"Very well," Mrs. Black sighed. She disappeared from the portrait and reappeared in a small one hanging over the kitchen stove. "Please hurry. This frame is rather constricting." Harry peered out from behind the tapestry and watched as they pushed back the portrait and unlocked a wooden, splintering door.  
  
"Should someone check on Harry? What if he comes down and we're not there?" Lupin suggested. Moody grunted and started to hobble down the stairs as best as he could with his wooden leg. Dumbledore shook his head and followed after Moody.  
  
"He won't be coming down any time soon. He's pretty upset," he said. Harry snorted in a that's-what-you-think kind of way and shifted his standing position anxiously. Finally, Tonks and Lupin went down the stairs, leaving the portrait to swing close. Harry darted out from behind the tapestry for his chance to follow them, but Mrs. Black had beaten him there.  
  
"I'm not moving again," she told him sternly and folded her arms across her chest. "It is way too uncomfortable in that picture."  
  
"Please? Just for a quick second?"  
  
"If it wasn't for you, my son would still be alive," she scolded him with vivacious disapproval. "Why should I move for you?"  
  
"It wasn't entirely my fault!"  
  
"Oh wasn't it? You were the one who lured him out there in the first place!" Harry looked at her stubborn face and when he started to grow impatient, he swallowed his anger. She didn't know the half of it.  
  
"Voldemort was the one who lured him out there and Bellatrix was the one who killed him," Harry explained, not wanting to get Mrs. Black more upset than usual.  
  
"Bellatrix? Bellatrix Lestrange? She wouldn't kill Sirius! She's my niece!"  
  
"She's changed since you probably last saw her. I mean, after all, you've been stuck in a portrait all this time," he said as he began to push back the portrait.  
  
"What do you think you're doing!" "Going into the basement." Harry ignored her flustered grunts of protest and lifted to the portrait at such an angle that Mrs. Black slid into the far right corner. He reached the door and turned the handle cautiously, letting the portrait swing shut.  
  
The basement smelt of newspaper drenched in gutter water. It was dank and dark; the only light source was that of a flickering light bulb in the middle of the ceiling. He heard the low mumblings of Moody, Lupin, Tonks, and Dumbledore and peered over the hand railing of the stairs. They were all huddled together under the light bulb and murmuring in barely audible voices.  
  
"So what has happened to him?" Dumbledore asked, utterly perplexed at whatever he was staring at.  
  
"We don't know for sure, but if you look at my notes here—" Tonks was cut off by a shrill scream coming from the corner of the room. Harry took this as the opportunity to sprint down the stairs without being heard. He hid behind a heap of towels that stank of mildew.  
  
"What's he doing Tonks?" Lupin asked.  
  
"Breaking down. The thing is, I don't know if he really is turning into something more powerful than a wizard or becoming schizophrenic," she laughed nervously, fixing one of her Mohawk spikes. "I'm joking guys. He's not becoming schizophrenic," she said to their nonexistent response.  
  
"What do you mean becoming more powerful?"  
  
"Well, when I spent five long hours down in this pneumonia inducing excuse for a basement, he began firing off random things," she walked out of the light over and came back with a clip board in her hand. "Some were just mumblings droned out by hysteric laughter, but one comment really caught my attention and honestly scared me a little bit," she folded back page after page of notes until she came to what she was looking for. "Right here—see?"  
  
"'My Lord, take my life, my body, my soul, in exchange for an inimical inhumane form,'" Dumbledore read. All four of them looked up from Tonks's clipboard and stared at the dark corner. Harry tried to catch a glimpse of the apparently insane man, but Tonks's seagulls blocked his view.  
  
The man had ceased his screaming.  
"D'you think Voldemort is doing something to them? That maybe they are becoming inhuman?" Moody asked, beginning to open his hip flask that he had carried around all of Harry's fourth year.  
"I don't know. I don't want to believe that Voldemort could have the magic to do something like this—to breed an army of hostile creatures we've never seen before," Dumbledore sighed. "Should probably still keep examining him to see what happens."  
"Let's go back up then and look over these notes in better light," said Lupin.  
"I can't right now. I have to return to Hogwarts and check up on the professors' health. I will be back in a few days. Keep my posted on his condition and tell Harry I said goodbye."  
"Aren't you going to go up and talk to him Dumbledore?"  
"No. I don't think he wants to talk to me for a while and I perfectly understand. I just wish he did," he said as he adjusted his hat and began to climb the stairs. They creaked with every step he took, threatening to give way.  
"But Professor," Lupin stopped him as Dumbledore's hand began to turn the door knob, "what about Harry? Do we send him back?" Dumbledore's hand froze in mid turn, making Mrs. Black squawk in discomfort.  
"Hurry on with it! Just get out!" she shrieked, but Dumbledore ignored her.  
"Now that he has the blood there is no reason for him to go back to the Dursleys. Can you keep him here until I return?"  
"Sure. No problem." Harry punched a triumphant fist into the air and placed his hand gently on the lump the vial created in his pocket. The anger that rained inside him left with Dumbledore as he stepped out the door. I never have to go back.  
"Should we go talk to Harry?" Tonks suggested also starting to climb up the stairs and out of the room. One of her seagulls flew off her shoulder and landed on the post of the hand railing.  
"Nah," Moody shook his head. "If Dumbledore didn't even wanna talk to him than he probably won't talk to us. Now let's get something to eat." Lupin looked at both Moody and Tonks and cocked his head towards the darkened corner.  
"What about him?" he asked.  
"What about 'im? He's already eaten and we'll check on him later," Moody responded as he hobbled up the stairs after Tonks. Lupin put his hands into his pockets and followed after them. The stairs moaned under the weight of the three pairs of feet and the light bulb flickered at their departing. Harry heard the last grumbles of Mrs. Black as the door closed shut. He breathed a sigh of relief.  
"Never going back," he smiled, standing up. Harry kicked over the towel pile and began to walk towards the stairs. As they creaked, the man in the corner grunted and shifted in his chair. He paused on the third step up and looked back down at the patch of illuminated floor. He hesitated and then curiosity got the best of him. Harry walked into the light. In the dark, he could make out two eyes staring back at him. They had a slightly sedated and menacing look; never taking their gaze off Harry.  
Harry pulled out his wand, not intending to perform any spells, but incase the man broke loose from his bindings it would scare him off, and grabbed the chain that the light bulb hung from. He pulled the chain out as far as it would go and shone it on the man in the corner.  
It was horrifying.  
The man sat hunched over like a deformed, anorexic monkey. His skin was the faintest shade of gray and had a scaly, reptile look to it. He was so thin that Harry could make out the veins in his arms. Now that the light was better on the man, Harry also saw that his eyes were not green, hazel, blue, or brown, but in fact a mix between orange and yellow. The few strands of hair that sprouted from his head were matted and tangled. Where teeth were supposed to grow, there were pale yellow fangs. His fingers were long and bony and the nails looked bloody and infected. They had begun to curl due to the length and neglect of their hygiene. At his feet there was a puddle of what Harry thought to be bodily fluids.  
"They're certainly not getting stronger," he breathed, shocked that in Sirius's house was a deteriorating Death Eater. "Not if they look like this." The man drew back his lips into a grimace and bared his teeth. Harry took a step back, but this startled the man. He straightened up in his chair and thrashed, almost tipping himself over. He then lowered his head and started to gnaw at the bindings that held him captive. Harry took another step back and gripped his wand even tighter. The light flickered and went out.  
Harry yelled and Tonks's seagull began squawking uncontrollably. He ran towards the wall and began to search blindly for the stairs. He could still hear the Death Eater chewing on his straps as he felt his way towards the hand railing. Something wrapped around his leg. He fell to the floor with a thud. It was only the towels he had kicked over. Harry clutched the wrist that he had fallen on and listened hopelessly at the gnashing of teeth against the straps and the saliva that the man sucked back. As he scrambled to stand up, there was another tearing sound. The last binding had broken.  
Harry heard the chair being tossed aside. It crashed into the wall with a splintering crack. Tonks's seagull took flight and fluttered around the room. He could hear the Death Eater overturning tables and thrashing around searching for Harry. The walls were moist to the touch as he clung to them. The man began to yell again, piercing the blackened basement air. He felt something make contact with the side of his face. Harry picked up what had been thrown. It felt like the chair leg. He crouched down and stuck his hand out, feeling for a sign of the wooden steps. And then the man stopped. His panting simmered down to that of a wheezing whistle.  
"He's in here my Lord," the man said.  
"Kill him," a second voice chimed in. "Kill him and eat him. I'm hungry."  
"I can't see him!"  
"Then find another way to get him!"  
"How?"  
"Sniff him out or something!" Harry backed into the corner of the room and held his wand close to his chest. He listened to the voices argue with each other about how to locate him. If I could only see the stairs! he thought angrily. He could picture the basement in his mind's eye, but the stairs seemed to have disappeared. It then occurred to him that using your wand as a light source wasn't considered underage magic.  
"Lumos," he muttered into his chest. The tip of his wand lighted and he held it out in front of his face to see. The stairs were on the other side of the basement. The man was crouched down in the middle of the room with his back towards Harry. He held his head and twitched every time he changed voices. There was no second man.  
"Behind you!" the second voice yelled suddenly, taking Harry by surprise. The man spun around and launched himself at Harry. His wand was knocked from his hand and rolled across the floor. The seagull cawed even louder. The strength of the Death Eater was underestimated by his feeble appearance. He kept Harry pinned down against the cold, damp ground. The Death Eater lowered his head in Harry's face and breathed putrid breath on him. His yellow-orange eyes crept upon his neck and Harry felt his skin burn underneath the stare. A drool string, thick and weighty with phlegm at the bottom, but stringy and thin as it ascended back to the man's lip, hung dangerously close to Harry's chin. Harry flailed and tried to push the man off him, but he wouldn't budge. He threw his hands down at his sides and scrambled them around in order to find something with enough mass to smack the Death Eater off him.  
His hand brushed up against the blood vial.  
Harry pulled it out of his pocket and brought his arms above the Death Eater's back. Then with all the strength that the Death Eater hadn't managed to strangle out of him, he drove it into his spine. The man began to convulse, his eyes bulging, the string of saliva plopped onto Harry's chin and tickled him as it dripped down his neck. He pushed the man of him and ran towards his wand. The seagull fluttered over to Harry and landed on his shoulder. It started nipping his ear, eventually biting it and pulling at it.  
"Ow! Stop! Stop! Get off!" he yelled at it. Harry seized the seagull by the throat and yanked it off of him. He felt a warm, wet substance trickle down his ear. He bent down to grab his wand. His fingers brushed against the wood, but fell limp as a sharp, searing pain rippled through his back. Harry crashed to the ground and held one hand to his bleeding back. He looked up at the face that stood over him. The Death Eater also clutched his back with one hand, but he was smiling as he did so. He rolled over and kicked the Death Eater in the stomach, sending him tumbling into the towel pile. He then picked himself up, swaggered over, and collapsed on top of him. The man screamed, the seagull cried, and Harry growled.  
He turned the man over and retrieved the vial out of his punctured skin. The point was covered by a thin, watery substance. It dripped down his hand and down his sleeve.  
"Thanks Mum," he murmured before placing it back into his pocket. The room swayed with the rhythm of the pulsating pain in his back. Harry glanced down at the man's fingers. The nails were painted with Harry's own blood. Harry raised his fist behind his year, but the basement door opened and Tonks's silhouette appeared, interrupting Harry's punch.  
"I'm right here you stupid bird! No use crying so much. Man it's dark in here. Lumos," she said. Harry paused, fist still raised above his ear.  
"Tonks! He—he attacked me," he spluttered.  
"Harry! What? He attacked—Remus! Mad-Eye! He attacked Harry!" Harry heard the peg-legged shuffle of Moody as he hurried to her side. Lupin showed up not a second later. They rushed down the stairs, muttering lumos into their own wands and pulled Harry off the twitching Death Eater.  
"Harry," Lupin said in a calm, yet somewhat panicky voice. "Harry are you alright?"  
"He attacked me. I—I had to stab him. He attacked me," Harry replied, shaking. "He stabbed me also. My back. . . ." Lupin scooped Harry up in his arms as best as he could and dragged him over to a chair covered by a dusty sheet. He pulled the sheet off and set him down gently.  
"Where is your wand?" he asked. Harry pointed to where it lay, still lighted. Lupin went and retrieved it, placing it in Harry's limp hands, but it fell out and rolled into the middle of the basement. Harry caught one last glimpse of the Death Eater's raging eyes before he blacked out. The last he heard was Tonks and Moody pulling out their own wands. 


	14. The Return Home

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Before I say anything at all, I must apologize for my lack of incessant updating. My last update was, I believe in February, and it is now three months later. Let me explain, I haven't had time. Simple as that. A bad excuse? No. In those three months, I dealt with a lot of stress, an overload of stress. I went through a series of emotional rollercoasters, all of which can top any rollercoaster at Six Flags Magic Mountain. On top of that, there were the HUGE state tests to study for, stress over, and take, and I've also had to study my bum off for math finals. I had failed four tests, was seeing a tutor and still doing poorly, so I have had to rearrange my priorities. Now, you'll read this chapter and say, "It took her three months to write this?" but the truth is, I had just about finished chapter fourteen, and then erased the whole thing. I read it and decided that it didn't work well with my storyline and didn't really develop into anything so I rewrote chapter fourteen's outline on a piece of discarded napkin. Now, chapter fourteen was supposed to be longer, but I felt extremely guilty that you hadn't had an update in three months so I split it up and decided to give you this. Enjoy and fifteen will be on its way!  
_  
**14. The Return Home  
**  
His eyes fluttered open, blinking back the cool moisture beginning to slide down his face. He stared up at the filthy-white ceiling of his bedroom in number twelve. Breathing as little as possible, he searched frantically in his pockets for his wand. It wasn't there. Harry sat bolt up right, but fell back down with a sharp yelp at the immense pain in his back. He convulsed for a split second in an effort to control the stab of pain and relaxed as it started to fade away. He again attempted to sit up, was successful, and got to his feet.  
His knees quaked under his weight causing him to grab hold of the bed post to keep him from falling. What happened? Everything seemed normal. Harry could smell the sour scent of the peeling wallpaper, and feel the draft coming up from the floorboards. Nothing had changed. But what's wrong with me? his conscience asked. With a slow, but steady pace, he hobbled downstairs.  
The living room was as silent as death. Midnight splashed onto the walls and left a puddle of moonlight on the floor. The portraits in the hallway were sleeping soundly and there was an occasional snore from one painting with a large mustache and pointed chin.  
He proceeded into the kitchen and squinted into the darkness trying to locate his wand. His knees suddenly gave a heavy jerk and he slipped backwards onto the cold tile. Cursing under his breath, Harry hoisted himself right side up again, leaning on a chair for support.  
"Where is my wand?" he spat through clenched teeth. "What happened to it?" He sat down in the chair in which his hand rested upon and placed his hands in his pockets. He felt the vial against his finger tips and pulled it out into the open. Dried blood was caked on the entire vial. The blood was not red like Lily's, but black and resembled molasses. The room swam Harry found himself watching a flash back.  
In a foggy picture, he was crouching down in a dark room. The only light source was flickering and straining to maintain its last vital watts and the shadow it cast sent eerie images dancing on the wall. There was a figure in the corner, huddled over and screaming in a chair. He was alone. Harry advanced towards the figure and it became agitated, thrashing around in his chair, gnawing at the restrictions around his wrists. The light broke; the figure leaped and started attacking him. Harry wrestled with the thing and pinned him down until Tonks entered the room. She called for help and straddled the attacker. Lupin dragged Harry over to a chair and plopped him down. He fetched Harry's wand and placed it in his hands. The side- effect of the shock of the whole event had sunken into the pit of his stomach and caused the strength in his hands to die. The wand fell out of his hands and rolled across the floor. All went black.  
Harry blinked and realized that he was still sitting in the kitchen. He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise and goosebumbs shiver their way across his skin. Cautiously, he placed the vial back in his pocket and covered his eyes with his hands. His wand was still on the basement floor. Harry drew a shaky breath and slowly stood up. He looked down the hall and saw that Mrs. Black was sleeping heavily in the corner of her picture frame.  
"She won't notice if I go down," he reassured himself. He shuffled towards the portrait and froze, deciding if he should go through with it or not. I have to get out of here, he thought determinedly. Staring up at the wizened face in front of him, he noticed a mirror image of Sirius looking back. He shook off the memory and began to pull the portrait up.  
The door shrieked loudly as Harry opened it. He rested his foot on the first step and felt the air in his lungs catch in his throat. The faint light that filled the room from the open door revealed traces of blood on the floor and the overturned pile of towels. Every detail of the fight came rushing back to him as he felt his hands clam up. He cleared his throat and squinted into the darkness.  
Before he knew it, or before he would have liked it to happen, Harry found himself at the bottom of the stairs and at ground level with the fiend that had attacked him so viciously. The man had been replaced in his corner, but his eyes were closed and the restrictions around his wrists were replaced by chains around his ankles and torso as well. His eyes pierced the basement atmosphere, only there wasn't the faintest sign of activity behind them. The only sound throughout Number 12 was the breathing of the man.  
Since the Death Eater hadn't stirred or grunted or made any indication that he recognized Harry's presence, Harry decided that it was safe to get on his hands and knees and grope for his wand. His hands sifted through the towels, scratched against the ground, and felt beneath the dust, but it did not turn up. His face grew hot with frustration and he slammed a fist on the ground. Then the man stirred. Harry froze, eyes wide, heart galloping in his chest.  
"I see you," the Death Eater whispered. "Get out or I'll kill you." Harry started crawling backwards and towards the staircase. The man thrashed against his chains and began to yell. He tried to kick, but the chains hugged him tightly to the chair. The chair rocked to the side, sending something rolling across the floor. Harry lunged and grabbed the rolling object.  
"My wand!"  
"Get out of here!" Harry scrambled to his feet and sprinted for the stairs. His left foot caught the bottom one and sent him collapsing onto the steps. As if it had never happened, he dusted himself off and leapt onto the foot of the staircase. The chair had toppled over and the Death Eater began screaming and yelling. Harry slammed the portrait shut, waking up a cranky Mrs. Black, but fled to the kitchen before she saw him. Breathing hard, he ran up stairs, grabbed his trunk, and practically jumped the whole staircase. With a shaky hand, Harry scribbled out a note:  
  
Dear Lupin, Moody, and Tonks,  
I can't stay here. I'm taking floo to Hogwarts so don't panic. I will talk with you soon I suppose. Bye. —Harry  
  
He folded the note and set it down on the table. Without giving it a second thought, Harry yanked his trunk over to the fire place and grabbed a handful of floo powder. The man was still screaming in the basement.  
"They'll wake up soon," he said. "They'll wake up and find the note and be angry, but I have to leave." He threw the floo powder into the furnace, commanded that he be taken to Hogwarts, and was engulfed in the roaring green flames.  
  
He landed face first into the carpeted floor of Dumbledore's office. His trunk came zooming out after him, nearly missing his head as it flew into the wall. A picture fell off and began to scream in panic. Harry put on his glasses, rolled his eyes, and ran over to the frightened portrait, grinding his teeth.  
"Ssssh! Ssssh! Shut up! You'll wake up Dumbledore!" he whispered as he mounted the picture of an albino witch back on the wall. He didn't know why he told her to shut up; he was going to wake up Dumbledore anyway.  
"Dumbledore!" she screamed. "Dumbledore! Dumbledore come quick! There is an intruder!"  
"Shut it!" he pressed his hands against her lips to stifle the noise, but she kept on yelling through his fingers.  
"PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE!" An undisclosed door slammed open and a weary- eyed Dumbledore appeared dressed in his regular day clothes. He had obviously fallen asleep before properly preparing for bed.  
"What is it?" he asked stiffly.  
"Hi Professor," panted Harry. "Good to—er—see you." Dumbledore turned menacingly towards Harry's direction and then sighed.  
"Harry, what are you doing here? You are in no condition to travel."  
"I know, but I had to leave. . ." he trailed off. Dumbledore walked over to his desk and sat down in his high-backed chair. Harry stood by his trunk until Dumbledore beckoned for him to take a seat opposite. Dumbledore began to rub both eyes and as he opened his mouth to speak, a yawn escaped.  
"Why did you really come here? It's not like you to leave a place where you were previously attacked two days ago, especially if your attacker was securely tied to a chair," Dumbledore said.  
"Two days ago? It happened two days ago? I only woke up tonight!"  
Dumbledore nodded and then said, "Yes well, you were pretty badly beaten. We took you to Saint Mungo's but you wouldn't wake up," he paused and allowed himself a soft giggle, "and you frightened Remus a fraction of an inch from death. He thought that you would never wake up and forever be in what muggles call 'a coma.'"  
"Oh," said Harry, staring absent mindedly at Dumbledore's red, bleary eyes.  
"Yes," Dumbledore continued, "the doctors said that it wasn't just the injuries, but the shock of the whole situation that left you unconscious. I feel terrible. You've been through quite a lot this week haven't you?" Before waiting for Harry to answer, Dumbledore walked over to his shelf and brought back the penseive. Inside were swirling silver clouds of thoughts and memories.  
"This always does the trick when I have a lot on my mind. Would you like to use it? Clearing your thoughts is the key to a nice long rest." Harry looked from Dumbledore to the stone basin and thought of how Snape's memories were easily accessible. He hesitated.  
"Erm, will I still be able to remember everything?" he asked.  
"Yes," Dumbledore replied. "Just not as vividly as before."  
He sighed and peered into the penseive once again.  
"Er—no. No I—I'm fine," Harry replied feeling tension come between him and Dumbledore. "I can handle it rather well." Dumbledore threw up his hands in a shrug.  
"Your choice. I hope you know that my intention was not to trick you into anything. I just thought it might help you relax. This week has been trauma after trauma for you and I don't want you to be overwhelmed."  
"Thanks," he said. Dumbledore nodded. Now that the adrenaline had left his body, Harry could feel the effects of the late hour. He left his seat and began to lift his trunk. "Can I stay here?"  
"Of course. You may use your dormitory for the remainder of this, well this isn't exactly holiday, so you can use it for the rest of this break."  
"Thank you Professor," Harry grinned, heading towards the door. "By the way, how are the others doing?" Dumbledore smiled at the question.  
"They're recovering nicely. In fact, some of them have a healthy immune system and are willing to give an interview. No," Dumbledore said as Harry's eyes widened, "it will not be conducted by Rita Skeeter." Harry nodded and apologized to Dumbledore for waking him up. They bade each other a "goodnight" and then Harry left for his dormitory.  
He didn't have the faintest idea what time it must be. The hallway loomed evilly in the darkness. Mrs. Norris darted across his feet and made him jump. He clutched his wand and the vial closer to him.  
When Harry reached the portrait, the Fat Lady was not there. He lifted the painting and climbed inside. The common room was worse than the hallways. It was cold, empty, and oddly resembled a mortician's office. He shivered as he set his trunk down in a corner. Despite its funeral home characteristics, Harry felt more at home than at Grimmuald Place. He never regretted returning to Hogwarts. It was his home. The Dursleys were shelter. Grimmuald Place was a house to flee to, but Hogwarts was home. With that feeling of comfort, Harry climbed the stairs to his bed, which he could hear soothingly calling his name. He was half asleep by the time he hit the pillow. 


	15. The Drooble's Best Blowing Gum Corruptio...

**15. The Drooble's Best Blowing Gum Corruption**  
  
When Harry awoke the next morning, it was well into the afternoon. With a look of content, he sat up slowly and felt extremely relaxed for a person attacked two nights ago. Harry wiped the sleep from his eyes, dressed in a grey shirt and his ragged denim jeans, and strolled into the common room. It didn't appear as cold, and empty as before. In fact, it was a lot more welcoming and the quiet bliss was almost palpable, probably because a house elf had visited in the early morning and tidied up the room. The curtains were drawn back, letting in the warm afternoon rays, and the furniture looked new. There was a fire crackling softly and an armchair had been pulled up in front of it. From behind the chair came a sound of someone humming, tone deaf, to a tuneless song. He cringed as the anonymous person hit a wrong note.  
"Excuse me, but who are you?" he asked the back of the chair. The humming stopped abruptly and a person leapt into the air. It ran over and embraced Harry in a tight hug. He managed to pry the person away from him and saw that it was Luna.  
"Wotcher sleepy head!" she greeted. "It's good to see you!"  
"Yeah, uh, you too Luna," he replied. "Erm—not to sound rude or anything, but why are you here?" Luna cocked her head and blinked her enormous eyes.  
"I told my dad as soon as I got home about the Professors being poisoned and he said that that would make a great article for the Quibbler so, via post, asked Dumbledore if he could conduct an interview," she said in on breath. "But now that you're here I have someone to hang out with!"  
"Oh," Harry said feigning enthusiasm as the thought milled over in his head. "So how long have you been here?"  
"We arrived two days ago! It was nice being the only one at Hogwarts besides my dad and Dumbledore. This way, my stuff won't get stolen," she laughed, but Harry's heart sunk the slightest bit.  
"Do you want to come with me to see the Professors?" he asked, wanting to change the subject.  
"Sure! Then we can go for a walk on the grounds! It's a really nice day outside. Too bad you slept most of it off."  
"Yeah well," Harry said, starting towards the portrait hole, "I was tired." As they proceeded towards the hospital wing, Harry listened to Luna ramble on about her dad's interview. Words flew out at record breaking speeds, flying through one of his ear's and then out the other, but Harry smiled. No matter what seemed to be going on, nothing broke her spirits.  
They reached the hospital wing and from behind the double doors, soft mumbles and barely audible conversations emitted. Harry pulled open one of the doors, allowed Luna to drift in first, and followed after. The sight was not much different from when he had last left Hogwarts. The only noticeable change was the professors' skin color, now looking more like flesh rather than the multiple shades of their own vomit. Madam Pomfrey was talking with Professor Sprout while Dumbledore towered over Professor Flitwick. The other professors where either sleeping or talking amongst themselves. Harry scanned the room for Hagrid and hurried over when he spotted an enormous boot hanging over the bed. It was Hagrid, but there was another wizard on his left, frowning as if scolding the giant while clasping a tattered notebook.  
"Hagrid!" he said, running over towards the bed. The two of them stopped talking and turned to meet Harry. Luna came up a few seconds later and pulled the man with the notebook into a tight hug.  
"That's Harry Potter," said Luna. "He's staying here as well." The man smiled and outstretched a hand.  
"Who is—?"  
"This is my dad Harry!"  
"Oh! Sorry, nice to meet you!" he said, feeling embarrassed as he shook Mr. Lovegood's hand. Mr. Lovegood's eyes broke away from Harry's and searched along his forehead. He turned to Luna and nudged her with the side of his elbow.  
"Yes Daddy?" she asked, but Mr. Lovegood only pointed at his own forehead. "Oh! Right! Why didn't you just say so?" she said. Luna and Mr. Lovegood turned to meet each other's faces. It was the first time Harry had ever seen Luna with a straight face and a stern, mean straight face at that. It didn't last long however because Mr. Lovegood smiled, patted Luna's head, and began to rock back and forth producing a series of strained grunts. Luna snorted at the state of her father's being and then erupted into a fit of raucous laughter. She began to laugh so hard, that there was no longer any sound and by this point, Mr. Lovegood was on his knees and pounding his fist on the ground. Harry shifted uncomfortably as Mr. Lovegood crawled over to him and grabbed his ankle, still slamming a hand onto the tile. Harry glanced over at Hagrid who wore the same confused expression.  
"Luna? What's going on?" he asked after Luna's laughter had been replaced with desperate gasps for air. Mr. Lovegood stood up shakily and grabbed his stomach, half-grimacing, half-smiling. She wiped tears from her eyes and gave her dad another hug. Once again, he stared at Harry's forehead and then pointed to his own. Harry looked back at Hagrid who shrugged and shook his head as if saying, "I'm just as lost as you are." Luna was walking in circles in an attempt to get her breathing back to normal, and Mr. Lovegood continued to stare.  
"What do you want?" he asked out of frustration. Luna's father pulled back as if scalded and pointed to his forehead repeatedly. Finally, after the trials of laughter and awkward moments of confusion, it registered to Harry what Mr. Lovegood had wanted. He pulled back his hair and revealed the famous scar. Mr. Lovegood stared for a few seconds and then smiled.  
"C'mon Harry lets go," said Luna, grabbing his wrist and leading him out of the hospital. "Bye Daddy!" Mr. Lovegood waved and turned back to Hagrid who was drinking a potion Madam Pomfrey had given him. Luna led him down the hall and out through the doors. He yanked his hand out of her grasp and spaced himself a few inches from her.  
"Sorry I yelled at your dad like that," Harry said once they had made their way down the steps. "But why didn't he just tell me he wanted to see my scar?"  
"He couldn't have."  
"Why?"  
"He's a mute. He wasn't born a mute of course, but he lost his tongue."  
"Lost his tongue?"  
"Yep," she answered in a matter-of-fact tone. "Had it ripped right out of his head! He was doing an interview with Gilham Skewer, you know, the great dragon trainer from Peru, and Gilham's pet dragon attacked my dad!"  
"You sound so excited about it," Harry said, but Luna ignored it. They walked to the edge of the lake and sat down.  
"The dragon pried my dad's mouth open and ripped out his tongue. They got it back eventually, but it was too late. Couldn't be fixed. My dad kept it though. He wears it on a necklace! It's so cool! I wish I had a tongue necklace! Wouldn't that be wicked?"  
"Oh yeah, sure! That is if you like having disembodied parts dangle from you," he said. Luna didn't answer; she only gazed out at the lake and drew her legs up into her chest. Harry dug his hands into his pockets and lay down on the grass. It was rather peaceful being the only two there and he wished he had more moments like this throughout the year. A warm breeze washed over his face and caused his eyelids to droop.  
"You know," Luna began after the few moments of silence, "we could really use a new Minister of Magic. Our Ministry isn't legitimate anymore and Fudge is just plain weird."  
"Why do you say that?" Harry asked his eyes still closed.  
"Well, just the way they deny everything you have ever said about Voldemort returning. If you were posed with that threat, wouldn't you take safety precautions instead of just shrugging it off?"  
"I guess."  
"It's absurd, it truly is. Who knows better about Voldemort returning than the only one that survived him? You haven't given them a reason not to believe you have you?"  
"No," said Harry. "At least I don't think I have." He sat up and looked over at Luna who was rummaging around in her pocket for something. He threw a rock into the water and watched happily as it skipped across the surface four times. There was a large roar, like an eruption, and a suction- cupped tentacle shot into the air, flinging the rock back at the two of them. The rock shot past him, grazing his ear, and landed with a soft thud in the grass.  
"Ah ha!" Luna shouted triumphantly as she pulled out what looked like a candy wrapper. She seized Harry's wrist and thrust it in his hand. "Take a look at that!" He read the piece of paper and blinked.  
"It's a Drooble's Best Blowing Gum wrapper."  
Luna nodded enthusiastically.  
"How does this—?"  
"Relate to what we were talking about?" Luna finished for him.  
"Er—yeah."  
"Well, before you came to Hogwarts, I had been thinking about this whole Ministry-denying-everything situation. I thought that maybe they had been lying to protect the public, but then I saw this!"  
"Luna, it's just a candy wrapper," Harry said, handing it back to her. She shook her head and pushed it towards him.  
"No, really look at it!" Harry sighed and stared at the paper. There was nothing spectacular about it. The words Drooble's Best Blowing Gum covered the wrapper and there was a dancing cartoon bubble gum piece in between "Best" and "Blowing."  
"What am I supposed to be looking for?"  
"It's an anagram!" she said. "Drooble's Best Blowing Gum is an anagram of Gold Bribe Under St. Mungos!" Harry looked once again at the paper. Luna was right.  
"This is brilliant Luna! How did you even think of this?"  
"Harry," she laughed, "my father is a journalist and the media is all about exploitation, so I have learned to look at things differently!"  
"But how could the manufacturers at Drooble's have known?" he said, picking up another rock.  
"I don't know. They may have known about the anagram and have used it as a secret message of some sort, or they could have no clue that the name of their gum has exposed a well kept secret of the Ministry."  
"What secret?" spat a cold voice. Harry and Luna both turned, startled to see Cornelius Fudge standing over them, arms crossed. Lucius Malfoy stood at his side with his fingers wrapped around his wand like a coiled snake.  
"Why are you here?" Harry asked. "If you're thinking of sacking Dumbledore. . ."  
"We're not. We're investigating the poisoning incident and writing our own story about this dreadful situation. This way, the wizarding world gets the real story."  
"My father's already doing an article on it!" said Luna.  
"Exactly the reason we're here," Lucius muttered, glaring at Luna with a strong sense of disapproval. "I'm surprised people still buy that pathetic excuse for a magazine. The man can't even talk! Nobody believes him!"  
"I believe him!" she yelled.  
"Exactly, a nobody! Your father and his stupid magazine should be put into an asylum. The same asylum those," he shuddered, "Longbottoms are in!"  
"Shut up! Shut up! You tortured them! You and the other Death Eat—" Lucius forced his wand up against Harry's forehead and began to push it into his skin.  
"Mind your words Potter," he growled. Harry pushed his hand away and grabbed his own wand. Pointing it at Lucius's throat he said, "Shouldn't you be on trial for killing Ewan Renton?"  
"Already had the trial Potter," sneered Fudge. "Lucius never killed anyone."  
"That's a lie! You were there! You heard what Snape said! You said you needed to get Percy Weasley back!"  
"Say what you want," said Lucius. "No one believes you." Fudge nodded in agreement. He then lifted his hat, turned on his heel, and stalked up towards the castle. Lucius took this opportunity to pull Harry aside. He struggled to break free, but Lucius's grip was strong.  
"There are so many things I have control over Potter so you best mind what you're saying. And don't you dare mention Percy Weasley replacing me because next time I see a scumbag Weasley, I'll kill them," he pushed Harry onto the ground and stepped on his chest. Harry pounded at Lucius's leg, but the more the fought, the harder Lucius pushed. "I'm serious."  
"Getoffuhme!" Harry yelled. Lucius lifted his foot and stared down at Harry. He then turned to Luna and pointed his wand at her.  
"If you tell anyone about this, the next thing you're father will lose is his life!" Harry craned his neck to look at Luna who, for the first time, looked frightened. Her eyes were round, but round with fear and her lips began to quiver. Lucius snorted and began to climb up towards the castle. His black cloak billowed as a breeze kicked up and gave him the resemblance of a dementor. Harry slowly got to his feet. The rock he had picked up now lay in the grass and he picked it up and threw it as hard as he could at the water. He sighed heavily and glanced over at Luna who was trembling the slightest bit.  
"You okay?" he asked, but she only sat down and looked at the grass. "Luna? Are you alright?" She didn't answer, but instead, began to pull at the grass. The rock Harry threw shot back up into the air. The giant squid apparently did not favor rocks.  
"You know," she said at last, "you can steal my stuff, make fun of me, play tricks on me, and even give me death threats, but my dad. . .my dad is the only who cares for me. He's the only one I have left and even though he can't speak, we still communicate." Harry looked down and nodded. "And I always talk to him about school and he tells me—he tells me to ignore all those people. He says, 'you affected their life, they shouldn't affect yours.' He can't die." Harry stared. There was a different Luna he was witnessing before his eyes. Happy-go-lucky Luna Lovegood had had her spirits shattered into a new Luna. This Luna was a more serious, vulnerable Luna.  
"He won't kill your father, he only said that to scare you," Harry said, trying to reassure her, but it didn't help. She sniffed and turned away from him.  
"My dad is the only one who accepts me for who I am—he's my only...my only friend." Her butterbeer cap necklace jingled as she drew a hand to her face and tried to wipe it discretely. Harry approached her, grabbed her hands, and helped her up to her feet. She still would not look at him.  
"Luna," he said, still holding onto her hands. "I'm your friend." Harry then pulled her into a hug. 


End file.
